


Back From the Edge

by Rheynin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Cullen Rutherford, Chivalry, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Cullen Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Not Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC Compliant, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Wingman Iron Bull
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 58,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24457630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheynin/pseuds/Rheynin
Summary: Orphaned at three, Aelyth was taken in and raised by a childless Dalish couple. When the time came for the Conclave, Aelyth was sent to be a voice for the elves, in the hope that she’d be taken more seriously than one of the Dalish. Then all hell broke loose, and now, she just hopes she can survive the ordeal.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast & Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s), Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s), Female Inquisitor & Sera, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor & Josephine Montilyet, Inquisitor & Leliana, Leliana & Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 13
Kudos: 45





	1. Welcome the Herld

She was kind. Too kind, too often, and sometimes it had been used against her, even she knows that. But it’s better to be kind in a cruel world than to spew forth hate, like so many others do.

When they asked her to step up, to be a voice for elves at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she didn’t hesitate. She owed it to them, her clan, her kin, even if she wasn’t born as one of them. Especially because she wasn’t. Her kind, humans, were the reason elves existed mostly as slaves or wanderers, second class citizens without the freedoms afforded to others. That they were kind enough to take her in, when so many others would have left her to die or be at the mercy of the street, was a testament to their goodness. Though they shared a distrust of humans in general, she couldn’t blame them. She’d seen how cruel humans could be.

It seemed that despite her deepest hopes, she would never be able to better things now. The entire affair had blown up in her face, quite literally, and now she was chained in a dungeon, questioned by two women with dark, hard faces and an inherent mistrust of her words. Only the hooded one seemed to understand- she was no more aware of the situation than they were. Why the temple had blown up, what the mark on her hand was, it was all mystery. She flinched as the mark glowed green again, pain roaring through her body as it reached out for something she couldn’t name. In the dark, damp space, she had learned that if she relaxed, she could almost see it in the corner of her vision, but just as she began getting a clear picture, it danced out of her sight again.

When the dark haired woman, the warrior, had told her what had happened beyond the edge of her memories, tears came unbidden to her eyes, falling fast onto the cold stone floor. All of that death, all of that destruction. She felt it within herself, the deep sense of loss. They all grieved. So many, so much, it felt enough to drown in. Perhaps she would have lost herself, if the mark hadn’t sent it’s burning pain through her, grounding her firmly in the present.

The moments beyond were a blur. One moment she was chained in the dark, then she was pushed forward into the brightness of the day, the smell of smoke and ash choking her. A sea of faces glared at her, hating, grieving, distrusting and distressed. They were all mad, sick with anger, nearly all of it directed at her. She felt it like a great stone wall, pressing in on her, collapsing into a burden she alone could bear.

At some point, a few kind words were spared her, from the dark haired woman- was her name Cassandra? She, the angriest of all, but assuring Aelyth that she was not alone, that she should not take the anger of the crowd to heart. Then there were more screaming faces, fighting over her, to chain her again, arrest her, put her to a trial that would never be fair, or to give her to the glowing gash in the sky, a reflection of the mark in her hand. Sweet maker, it hurt to be so near it, with its echoing emptiness beckoning to her, calling her to come inside.

The next thing she knew, a man was holding her wrist, hard, but without malice, and a brightness ripped forth from her hand to the tear in the sky. He had ears, long ears, the ears of a friend. His voice was kind, explaining, but she unlearning in her exhaustion. Then more fighting, death, demons, a river of black blood beneath her feet. Maker, she was tired. The arrows flew from her wrist in second nature, easy as breathing. Death. Dying. Dead. Bodies littered the ground as she went, following the ones who had taken her in their guardianship. Arrows fly again, more bright flashes, and the feeling of collapse. Then that echoing bright light, calling, and all her strength put into the mark on her hand. Pushing. Tying. Tightening. Grab it, shut it tight, make it close, even if it kills her . . . .

When she woke she was in a soft bed, wearing clean clothes. A Dalish woman fell at her feet as she began to rise.

“No, wait! Don’t be afraid. I just want to know . . . .”

But she was gone. After someone . . . Lady Cassandra? 

Aelyth shrugged, straightening her clothes and taking in the cabin she’d woke up inside. Small, but well-appointed. Cozy, even. For a moment, she wondered if she ought to wait until someone fetched her, but decided against it. If she were still a prisoner, she’d likely be in chains, or have someone guarding her, at the very least. Since there were neither of those, as far as she could see, she figured she might as well leave. Her stomach told her it had been sometime since she’d last eaten, and she longed to feel the sun on her face. 

When she opened the door, she was greeted by a chill wind, and the bright glare of sunlight reflected on snow. She blinked a few times, and when her vision cleared, she saw a vast line of people flanking her doorway, leading away in a trail. A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd. Though they sounded more astonished than angry, a knot of anxiety formed in her stomach. The last time she’d seen this many people gathered was at the Temple, and that hadn’t exactly ended well for her.

A quick glance down told her that the mark was still there, now little more than a dull, burning ache. Unconsciously, she flexed her hand, then set out to follow the path laid before her. Every step, another whisper caught her ear, each more scandalous than the last, each more grandiose. Had she taken down an archdemon? Single-handedly? With only a single arrow and the mark on her hand? Had she alone survived the explosion at the Temple, walking out with the figure of Divine Andraste herself at her side? 

For all she knew, she had. Memory had failed her the last few days or so. As she approached the door of the castle, she began hearing a single phrase, repeatedly, referring to her. Like a title.

“The Herald of Andraste.”

What the hell? 

She was soon swept through the doorway and into a wide room with maps and books spread upon the giant table at its center. Numbly, she watched as the dark haired warrior, Cassandra, who’d accompanied her before, argued with a ridiculous priest, along with the hooded woman, a dark-skinned woman with an Antivan accent, and a blonde gentleman who was heavily armed. None seemed able to agree on exactly what should happen, or where she should go. The priest- he really was ridiculous, right down to his patchy facial hair -seemed dead set on her becoming some sort of scapegoat. Well, she wasn’t about to let that happen.

She didn’t have to. Cassandra, apparently, had it all under control. There was to be a new Inquisition, a break from the will of the Chantry, despite it being a directive from the late Divine Justinia. And she, at the center of it all, thanks to the mysterious mark on her hand. Her title was all but official, by the end of the day, however she felt about it. The Herald of Andraste.

She supposed she should be thankful that she was at least religious, Andrastian, to boot, a fact she assured Cassandra of later that afternoon. They were readying themselves for the first official task under the Inquisition, speaking to a Chantry sister in the Hinterlands. Mother Giselle, she was called, busy helping the local refugees of the war between the Mages and Templars. Aelyth had never cared much for either, herself. They fought ruthlessly, both sides uncaring who got caught between them, and she was certain that for every single mage or templar who died, at least three civilians were killed. But, to them, those were simply “unfortunate casualties”, lives that mattered little in the quest for power. Mages might have more regard for elves than the Templars did, but only because of the magic that coursed through their veins. More warm bodies to throw against the Templars. They had no respect for that magic, no appreciation for the danger inherent in it’s use. Templars at least understood that danger, and the need for protection from it, but they were often unnecessarily cruel in their treatment of those who were their charges. And such cruelty, once unleashed, often bled onto others around, particularly people they deemed as lesser. Like the elves.

The company didn’t return from their trip for more than two weeks. The business with Mother Giselle had taken very little time, but once Aelyth had seen the refugees’ misery up close, she insisted they take the time to help. If the Chantry couldn’t be bothered to reach far enough into the Hinterlands to find food and blankets for them, then the Inquisition would. Aelyth herself had hunted enough meat to feed the entire refugee camp for many weeks to come, and their soldiers were told to include a hunt in their rotations. Blankets and other supplies had been snatched from the supposedly secret caches of Apostates and Templars alike. She would see no one suffer under her watch.

Her hands-on approach seemed to make quite an impression on everyone. After they returned to Haven, new recruits began showing up in droves, many from the Hinterlands. There were also a few rebel Mages, Apostates tired of the fighting that went nowhere, longing for a righteous cause. But when the Templars began to show, Aelyth took notice. It seemed unlike them, those who already had a cause believed to be so pure, who’d fought so hard against the rebellion of the mages, to join in a cause considered so . . . uncouth, by Chantry standards.

That was when she discovered there was a Templar among them. Well, ex-Templar, according to Cassandra. The very man in charge of their soldiers, the new recruits. Commander Cullen. The thought sent chills down her spine. She’d heard stories about the rebellion, what happened in the circle, and they weren’t pleasant. And this man had actually been there. What cruelty had he presided over, or partaken in? She would know. If she was to be the face of the Inquisition, the rallying cause, she would be sure nothing untoward took place in these walls, or out.

She found him easily enough, training the recruits just beside the gates of Haven. First, she watched him from a distance, unnoticed. He had a sharp voice, a hard face, and was quick to correct any missteps. As a man fell, caught off guard by the approach of his opponent, he moved to him, losing large over where the man lay with an angry look upon his face. She held her breath, waiting for the tirade of insults she was sure would come. Instead, he reached his hand out, helping the fallen to his feet. He had them repeat the encounter several times, slowly, and guided them both through it, moving their arms, shifting their legs, until he was satisfied that they had their positions correct. Then, he had them go through it again, under his eyes. When the man who had fallen blocked successfully, he gave him a curt nod, then moved as if to walk away. At the last minute, he turned, repeating the move the man had missed before, this time from a different angle. When his approach was successfully blocked, he lowered his shoulders, dropping all pretense of fierceness. He smiled broadly, clapping the man on his shoulder and congratulating him, leaving him with a proud smile on his face. 

This scene played through in different ways several times, until finally he approached a young man who couldn’t have really been old enough to fight. He barely even had whiskers, and he was the kind of scrawny that’s all elbows and knees and nowhere to put them. Aelyth approached quietly, at risk of giving herself away, but wanting desperately to hear what the Commander had to say to this stripling.

“What’s your name, recruit?”

There was a hardness to his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and there was a soft edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Aiden, ser.”

“Why are you here, Aiden?”

“Apostates killed my father, ser. Then a Templar came, tried to move in on my mum. She refused, he killed her. I’ve got no family, ser, and if the Inquisition means to bring peace, I’d like to be a part of it. Ser.”

The boy’s voice trembled with the uncertainty of someone who has seen far too much, far too soon, and can’t find it within himself to face the reality of it. He likely meant what he said, that he wanted to be a part of something that brings peace, but he also needed it. He needed to be kept busy, so he could face his feelings in his own time. Apparently this was something the Commander understood. Aelyth could nearly feel the compassion rolling off of him, and took note of the way his voice softened as he began to walk the boy through his paces. More so than he had with the previous two, he looked into the young man’s eyes, giving him clear signals of the moves he was about to make, moving slower, giving him more time to react. He understood easily, this boy needed confidence right now far more than he needed skill. 

When he’d finished, turning back towards the gate, he was surprised to find Aelyth right in front of him.

“Maker! You startled me.”

Aelyth smiled gently. “My apologies, Commander.” The two walked some distance away, standing where they could hear each other easily, but Cullen could keep an eye on the recruits. Then she turned to him. “It occurs to me, Commander, that I know very little about you.”

He chuckled. “I’m afraid I’m not terribly interesting, but I’m happy to answer any questions you may have. What would you like to know?”

Aelyth questioned him on his training, his life as a Templar. The entire time they spoke, she couldn’t help but notice the way he crossed his arms over his chest, moving nervously from one foot to another. He was guarding something, definitely. Did it have anything to do with the way he watched her mouth, subconsciously biting his own lip, or the way his eyes kept darting downward, glancing over her figure? Perhaps, but maybe not. She subtly adjusted her stance, cocking out her hip and leaning back somewhat, and watched as his gaze followed her movements, eyes flickering quickly across the curve of her breasts. 

She wanted to ask him if they didn’t have women where he’d come from, since he seemed so fascinated with her body, but thought better of it. Instead, she focused her line of questioning on the way he’d grown up within the Templars, what his life was like, and if he’d enjoyed it. How did they prepare? Did they take vows, as the Chantry sisters did? He seemed to find her interest amusing, patiently answering, giving the details as he could, smiling fondly at the memories she’d made surface. Still, he kept stealing what he likely thought were subtle glances, at her lips, the curve of her waist, the spot where her jawline met her ear. As she drew her questions to a close, she asked more specific questions about the vows of Templars, intending to leave him with one final question, where his reaction was far more important than his answer.

“Do Templars take vows of celibacy, as well?”

A light blush began to rise in his cheeks as he answered in a voice far steadier than she would’ve expected. “Some do . . . but it’s not required.” There was a hint of suspicion there, as if he knew she was up to something.

“Have you?” She gave him a dazzling smile, gently biting the edge of her lip, and watched as the faint blush burned to a bright crimson.

“Uhm . . . no. I’ve taken no such vows.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Maker’s breath, could we speak of something else?”

She smiled, turning to walk away. As she approached the gate, she gave one final glance over her shoulder. He was watching her, especially the sway of her hips as she walked. She waved, and the crimson that had just begun to fade grew bright again as he looked down at his feet.


	2. Chapter 2

“I cannot believe that he Templars would simply abandon the Chantry like that!” Cullen roared, banging his fist on the giant table of the war room.

“Be that as it may, that is exactly what happened. I was there, I saw it with my own two eyes.”

Aelyth rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her annoyance with the Commander’s temper. How Cassandra could manage to stay so calm, she didn’t know. If he’d been dealing with her, she’d have been more than ready to throw him out in the snow to cool off. 

“Maker, can we please just move forward? It’s clear the Templars have gone insane, even if it’s only temporary.”

Cullen shot daggers with his eyes. “I would not dismiss them so easily. They alone-“

“I’m sure your faith in them has nothing to do with the fact that you were once one of them.” Aelyth shot at him, watching him grind his teeth together in frustration.

“As a former Templar, I know how capable they are.”

“Of what, torturing Mages?”

“ENOUGH!” Cassandra burst out. “Both would serve our purpose, which is to close the breach. Or have the two of you forgotten that is our goal?”

“My apologies, Commander.” Aelyth spit at him. “I’m certain the Templars must have some redeeming qualities.”

Cullen looked ready to jump over the table at her, and a part of her wished that he would. She didn’t particularly care which faction they used, she only wanted to close the breach and return to some kind of normal life. It was just that Commander Cullen was so damn stuck on the virtues of the Templars, refusing to see how flawed they were! And he was so certain of their utter perfection, he was very nearly ready to go to war with members of the very Inquisition he was a part of, just to prove it.

She stormed out of the war room, heading out into the sobering cold. The sun was bright, and coupled with the chill on her skin it soon had her feeling herself again. A part of her felt bad that she’d spoken so roughly to the Commander. He did deserve her respect, after all, but he needed to learn to have respect for others, just the same. He’d been so kind to that recruit, but his anger toward mages seemed almost insurmountable. Why? What would make him behave like that?

She’d been wandering the grounds, thinking to herself, when she caught sight of Commander Cullen leaning against a tree. His fingers were pressed to the bridge of his nose, and she heard him sigh loudly before muttering to himself.

“Andraste preserve me, I’ve really got to learn to control my temper. To speak that way, and to her . . . .”

Her? Did he mean her? He knew Cassandra and Liliana from way back, so maybe he meant one of them. 

“She’ll never come to even respect me if I don’t, much less anything else. I suppose I’ve not made a very good impression.”

Ah. Probably her, then. At least he felt bad about it. She glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, and when she saw no one else, she reached to grab a handful of snow, packing it into a ball. Quietly, she crept up, stopping a few feet away from him, and threw the snowball against the tree, sending a smattering of snow across his shoulder and down the neck of his armor. He jumped, turning to face her with his sword at the ready.

“Dear me, you’ll execute me over a snowball? What would Cassandra say?”

He let out a quiet snort of laughter. “If Cassandra had been in my place, you’d likely be bleeding already. She’s not one for surprises, especially of that sort.”

“And you, Commander? How do you feel about those kinds of surprises?” She purred, stepping towards him as he returned his sword to it’s sheath.

“Seeing as you’re alive, and I’ve put away my sword, clearly I take them far better than she.” He smiled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, about earlier. I apologize if I seemed a bit . . . rude.”

“Just a bit?” She raised her eyebrows for a moment before smiling, and began to walk alongside him. “It’s alright, I heard.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Heard?”

“Earlier, before I threw the snowball.”

“Ah.” Understanding dawned, then shifted to panic on his face. “How long were you standing there, exactly?”

She gave him a rather mischievous smile that he couldn’t help but find utterly charming. “Long enough.”

In spite of his nervousness, he smiled. She was still here, wasn’t she? So either she hadn’t heard quite everything he’d said, or she had heard, and she didn’t mind. Either way, he was more than content, at least for now. It was enough to be beside her, talking to her, to know that she forgave him for the harsh words he’d said before.

The two of them walked through the snow, conversing about anything that came into their heads. Mostly it was nonsense, though she gained some insight into Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine. It seemed that Commander Cullen was loathe to talk about himself, though. He’d even wax poetic about Blackwall’s reputation as a warden, or how skilled The Iron Bull and his Chargers were, but he’d share no details of his own life, particularly when it came to what happened in The Circle.

It was closing in on darkness by the time they realized they should head back, and the chill in the air had turned to outright coldness, even Aelyth’s thick leathers doing little to keep her warm. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, but her teeth were still chattering. Cullen was beside himself when he noticed.

“Maker’s breath! You must think I’m so callous, not to notice how cold you were getting. My apologies. I sometimes forget that not everyone wears pounds of armor. Here.” He whipped off his cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders tenderly. A small smile crept on his face as she pulled it close around her.

“Thank you, Commander.”

“Please, Herald,” his voice was soft and gentle as he adjusted it around her shoulders, letting his fingers linger against hers for just a moment. “Call me Cullen.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling at him above the fur collar. Had they always been such a bright shade of green?

“In that case, Cullen,” his heart soared at the sound of his name on her lips, “you should call me Aelyth.”

“All right,” he spoke, barely above a whisper, “Aelyth.”

They were silent as he walked her to her cabin, only speaking as they approached the door. She pulled off his cloak, handing it back to him.

“Thank you again, Commander.”

He took it with a shake of his head. “I told you to call me-“

“I know, but,” she cast her eyes around, pointedly looking toward Varric, “propriety and such.”

“Ah, yes. It would certainly be inappropriate if there was . . . talk. Especially when there is nothing to talk about.” He raised his eyebrows in question, not encouraged by the frown she pulled. Maybe he had misread the situation. 

“I . . . yes. Of course. Nothing to talk about.” She frowned again, looking at her feet, then switched to a smile as she looked up at him. Her voice was quiet. “Goodnight . . . Commander Cullen.”

He felt his chest tighten at the quiet sound of her saying his name, wishing he could hear it again. “Yes. Goodnight.”

He watched as the door closed behind her, then cursed himself for being an idiot. What, exactly, had he been thinking? To make the suggestion that there was something going on between them, or to give her the idea that something wasn’t, when things had been going so well. Couldn’t he just enjoy something, without having to overthink it to the point of destruction?

He couldn’t deny that he did, in fact, enjoy her company. Something about her had stuck with him, from the very first time he’d seen her near the Temple. She’d been through so much in such a short time, escaping a fatal explosion, walking out of The Fade and straight into a dungeon, then pulled out just as quickly and thrust into the eye of the storm, but still she’d helped. Without question. And then, when she’d closed the rift, she’d walked about in a daze, almost dead on her feet, closing the eyes of the fallen and saying prayers until she’d collapsed. He’d carried her away himself, making sure that she got to Haven securely and the healers had seen her right away. At the time, he’d convinced himself it was because she represented the only chance at closing the breach, but now he wasn’t so sure.

As he returned to his quarters, he prepared to tuck his cloak into it’s usual spot near his bed, but at the last minute, he brought it to his face instead. His nose pressed against the inside of the collar, where it had rested beneath her hair, and he inhaled deeply. As his eyes closed, a ghost of a smile played across his lips. Beeswax, leather, and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Brown and earthy, but a bit soft and green as well. Her. And she’d looked remarkably lovely wearing it, too, so much that impulse had almost made him give it to her. 

As he went to bed that night, he thought of her, of their time together, and he prayed to the Maker that no nightmares would come to ruin the solace of his dreams.

She was gone again by morning, another errand for the Inquisition, this time to meet with the Mages at Redcliffe. Soon enough she would have to make a decision about who to ask for help, the Templars or the Mages, and regret bit at his soul. He should have tried to make the decision easier for her, not harder, and if he couldn’t do that then he should have kept his mouth shut. But that was him, always running his mouth when he should keep it closed, always certain when he ought to be questioning. He would apologize again when she returned.

It was less than a week this time, as she rode in on a new charger, looking worse for wear. Deep lines of worry sat beneath the dark bags under her eyes, making her look like a ghost of her formal self. He helped her down, then made to take over the task of stabling the horse for her, but she stopped him momentarily with a firm grip on his wrist. Maker, she was stronger than he would’ve guessed. Her grip was like iron as she looked into his eyes.

“The second you’re done, meet us in the war room.”

He nodded, doing his best to stay calm. Something had shaken her deeply, so much that even her companions looked worried. He dealt with the horse swiftly enough, but found himself dragging his feet on the way to the war room. His heart was firmly in his throat. She had looked so worn, so beaten, it made him afraid.

He was the last to arrive, the others holding him in a dark stare as he entered. Aelyth stood at the center of them, and the look on her face as he approached sent his heart thundering in fear. For a moment, he stood uncomfortably before her, feeling like a small boy about to be chided by his mother. He was about to open his mouth when she gave him a grim smile.

“Well Commander, it looks as if we will be proceeding with the Templars.”

His heart sank. Had he forced this decision by his idiotic loyalty to the order, even as they appeared lost?

“I assure you, either party would-“

“We have no choice, Commander.” She swallowed hard. “The Mages have been . . . spoken for.”

“You mean claimed by Corypheus.” Cassandra said flatly. 

“Yes,” Aelyth answered. “Commander, you know the Templars best. I need you to set up a meeting. We have to gain their cooperation. They are our only chance.”

“Understood.”

His eyes were locked on her for the rest of the meeting, watching her go through the motions required of her as she swayed on her feet. She really did give without any concern for herself, he thought. Right now she ought to be in bed, resting, but here she stood before them, making decisions of life and death. Not unlike himself, he thought with only a little bitterness.

As the others filed out, he lingered, waiting for Aelyth. She remained, poring over the maps before her, reading and rereading the reports Leliana had given her. Finally, he approached her, reaching out to touch her shoulder gently.

“Aelyth . . . ,” she turned at his whisper, giving him a weak smile. “You must rest.”

“There’s too much to do, Cullen. Especially now, knowing that Corypheus has the Mages . . . we have to do better. We have to beat him.”

“You’re of no use to us if you can’t even stand up. Look at yourself. I’m not even certain you heard half of what was said in the meeting, you were practically asleep.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I’m honestly not sure I did, either.”

“Then come.” He held out a hand to her. “Let me walk you to your quarters. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”

“And how will you do that? Stay beside me and tell them we’re discussing important strategies? In my private quarters? Tsk, tsk, Commander. People will talk . . . .”

He let out a huff of laughter, meeting her expectant gaze with one of his own. “Perhaps . . . but maybe that isn’t the worst that could happen.”

If, somehow, ice had suddenly replaced all of the blood in his veins, the look she gave him would have turned it boiling. He’d thought himself bold in speaking those words, and she had him feeling like an awkward youth, blushing crimson with just a look. Her eyes spoke a promise, dared him to back up his words. Maybe, just maybe, she was trying to call his bluff, see if he was teasing or if his intentions were true. 

“Come,” was all he said, trying to hide the nervous tremble in his voice, the blush on his cheeks. “Come,” and she followed.

He lingered on the threshold for a moment, wondering if it was right for him to step into the quarters of The Herald of Andraste, then moved forward. For a man who’d faced demons, who’d seen horrors and cruelty, who’d been tortured, even, he found himself helplessly at sea when it came to romance. Though it wasn’t exactly frowned upon in the order, it wasn’t encouraged, either, and he hadn’t had many opportunities. Fraternizing with the Mages in your charge was technically forbidden, though it did happen, and relationships within the order were considered taboo, which left few options available. His relationship with his sister, often fierce enough to put a demon to shame, had scared him away from most of those.

He looked on helplessly as she removed the fighting leathers she’d been wearing, noticing for the first time how stained with blood they were, and how stiffly she was moving. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” She replied as she sat on the edge of the bed, removing her boots. “Only feel as if I’ve rolled down the highest mountain in Thedas, catching every rock on the way.”

He chuckled, watching as she stretched out on the mattress, her head rolling to the side to look at him. “Should I get a healer?”

She shook her head. “No. I think I just need rest.” 

Her eyes were already growing heavy, lashes fluttering against the curve of her cheeks as he looked on. He’d never seen her looking so tender, so vulnerable. A part of him wanted to move to sit beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his and pressing soft kisses to her fingertips, to run  
the knuckles of his free hand against the side of her face. How presumptuous of him, to even believe she’d allow that. 

He couldn’t help himself, though. Thoughts like that always came to him around her. For the first time since before Kirkwall, he had something on his mind other than duty, training, and the good of Thedas. More, even, than the will of the Maker. He had selfish thoughts, of something he’d like, just for himself. Which was ridiculous, of course. The Inquisition needed them both, and that meant room for little else. He had a long line of experience with that. Duty came first, whatever the heart might want. But he would dream, he would always dream.

By the time he pulled himself from his thoughts, her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and steady. For the first time in weeks, she looked at peace, and he wished that it could always be so. A quiet understanding began to dawn on him. He missed her company when she was gone, he wanted things for her, even if it meant giving them up himself. He’d willingly sacrifice anything, even himself, if it meant her happiness. 

Cullen Rutherford might be falling in love.


	3. Chapter 3

She watched him from a distance as he put the recruits through their paces, shouting corrections and encouragement with the same breath. They’d come a long way in these months, she had to admit, and a great deal of it was thanks to Cullen. He knew exactly how to deal with them, how to shape them into the best possible soldier they could be. He took their strengths and weaknesses into account, both individually and as a whole, and made it all work. As she smiled to herself, Bull walked up behind her.

“He’s doing good work, putting his Templar training to good use. Not sure even I could have whipped them into shape so quickly.”

“Yes, he is.” She threw him a glance tinged with a smirk. “Though you could help, you know.”

He grinned. “Nah, boss. I’d only get in his way. Unless of course, you’re hoping to drag him away for another ‘long walk’.”

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, grunting when her elbow caught him in the ribs. She was strong, for a human, built thick, with broad shoulders, almost like a Qunari, but with soft curves. If she’d had red hair, instead of those mousey brown curls, he’d have been all over her. Especially with that sharp tongue of hers. It made him wonder about the things she could do with it that were more . . . physical. He was tempted, anyway, but he wasn’t about to step on Cullen’s toes. The Templar was clearly hung up on her, barely able to function when she was around, and he suspected she returned those feelings. Sometimes being a spy (of a sort, anyway) was great. You saw things other people didn’t, figuring out the details of a person’s inner thoughts by the way they carried themselves. Other times it was maddening for the same reason. 

He’d watched the two of them from the day he arrived, both dancing carefully around the other, and had pegged them as secretly pining for each other almost immediately. It was the way he watched her, a soft smile on his face, as she went about her business in Haven, and the way she’d go out of her way to ask his opinion on things he knew she’d already made a decision on. He teased Aelyth about it sometimes, knowing she was more open to the option than Cullen. That man frustrated the hell out of him. Such a gentleman, always so proper, afraid of overstepping his bounds or making assumptions. It didn’t help that he truly believed he wasn’t nearly good enough for her, that she deserved some perfect prince of a man to sweep her off her feet. As if that’s what the boss wanted. No, she just wanted someone real, reliable. Someone who cared. As he left the two of them to their own devices, he made a decision. If Cullen didn’t make a move on her soon, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

When Aelyth approached him during a training break, Cullen once again found himself nervous, at a loss for words. Sometimes he thought she was laughing at him, such a clumsy fool who could barely string together a coherent sentence around her. But how could he, when she looked at him with those eyes like emeralds? He always felt wrong, like a pauper presented with a king’s feast, no idea how to start. This day, she tossed him a fresh apple she’d taken from the stores, biting into her own as she gestured for him to follow her. He didn’t realize he hadn’t taken a bite for several minutes, until she looked down and asked him if he wasn’t hungry. He was famished, actually, he’d just been too busy watching her, something he continued even as he bit into his own. As they approached the logging stand just outside of Haven, she took a large bite, juice beading against her lips as she chewed. She swallowed, then brought the apple to her mouth again, and he’d never wanted to be a piece of fruit so much in his life. The way the fullness of her lips curled around the tender flesh, her tongue pressed against it, sweet Maker, it was nearly indecent. 

He cleared his throat, trying to think about anything else.

“How are the plans coming along?”

“Well, I think,” she responded, swallowing. “The Templars have nearly settled now, and Josephine has secured a source of lyrium for them. It should be arriving soon.” She glanced towards him, noticing he’d sill barely touched the apple. “So how have you been?”

“Oh! Uhm, the recruits are doing well, training hard, and-“

She laughed, putting her hand over his wrist and making his heart pound in his chest.

“No, Cullen, I mean how are you, personally? What have you been doing?”

He felt the flush creeping into his cheeks again. “I’m . . . I’ve been fine. Mostly training.”

“As usual.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you ever have fun? Do things for the simple fact that you enjoy them?”

“I enjoy talking to you.”

He hadn’t really meant to say it, and he felt the flush growing hotter on his cheeks and down his chest. It got much worse when he realized that her hand was still on his wrist, dangerously close to slipping down against his palm.

“I enjoy talking to you, as well.”

She smiled, squeezing his wrist quickly before moving her hand to her lap. Her eyes lifted to the breach, a faraway, troubled look crossing her face.

“I suppose soon, that will be gone. If all goes well, anyway.” Her eyes turned to him. “What do you think will happen next?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” He felt her eyes burning into him, an unspoken question hanging between them. “I’ve just been worrying about each day as it comes, trying to take each challenge one at a time.”

She nodded. “Smart. I’ve always tried to plan things so far in advance, tried to shape my future into what I wanted it to be, and it never works out.”

He chuckled softly. “I know a little of that. When I first joined the order, I believed I had my whole life laid before me. I would live for the order, I would serve, and, one day, I would die for it as well. Then things happened in Kirkwall, and . . . .” He shifted uncomfortably. Those weren’t thoughts he wanted here, now, in her company. He’d have preferred to not have them at all, if he could help it.

As if she knew, she reached out to him again, lightly resting her fingers against the back of his hand.

“You know, if you ever . . . if you needed to talk about it sometime, or anything at all, I’m here.”

The warmth in her eyes nearly brought him to tears. He wanted to tell her everything, all of the past mistakes he’d made, the pain he’d caused, the pain he’d felt. The feelings welling up inside of him, even now, as he looked at her, feeling seen, really seen, for the first time in his life. He wanted to fall to his knees and rest his head in her lap, kneeling before her in a confession unlike any he’d ever had in the Chantry. In his dreams, she’d sooth him with her kisses and the tenderness of her touch, and he’d be washed clean, made new. But this wasn’t his dreams.

He thanked her, and told her he’d consider it. It made him feel even less worthy of her, that she was tasked with such a heavy burden, but she still made time to reassure him, and he hadn’t even asked about her, or offered to return the favor. Perhaps later, after the breach was closed, he could try. He wanted to. She made him feel so cared about, and he wanted to do the same for her, but Templar life hadn’t prepared him for anything like this. He moved on, forward, putting his focus on making the arrangements to close the breach. After that, he promised himself, he would try.

Then it was done. No pomp and ceremony, no fight to the death, just . . . closed. The only sign it had ever been there was the dull green scar, winking at them as if it wanted to remind them of what had happened. Most of Haven was celebrating, drinking and dancing for the first time since the explosion. Cullen walked the grounds, hoping to catch a glimpse of Aelyth without actually having to ask for her. He saw her, standing beside Cassandra and staring at the scar in the sky. Cassandra was smiling, or as close as she got, anyway, and he was just about to approach them when he saw the grim look on Aelyth’s face. Instead, he waited until she was alone, walking up beside her casually, despite the knots in his stomach.

“It seems as if things are done now,” he offered, but she shook her head.

“No. It was too simple. There’s a tension in the air, like the string of a bow pulled too far, just before it snaps. Something is coming.”

“Perhaps we’re just so used to being on the edge of things that we don’t want to believe we’re safe.”

She sighed, turning towards him and wrapping her arms around herself, just as she had that day he’d given her his cloak. He didn’t think it had anything to do with the cold this time.

“Do you really believe that?”

“No.” He sighed. “I feel it too. It’s just like before . . . well, before,” he finished, unsure of where else to take the sentence. Thoughts of the chaos at the Circle, of the nightmares he’d begun to have, enveloped him, urging him forward. If there was something else ahead, he wanted to take this small opportunity, this moment of peace. 

“Aelyth-“

She screamed, the mark on her hand burning bright, and warning bells sounded. Cullen took off without a second thought, his training taking control of his limbs and carrying him to the thick of the chaos. It was where he felt most at home, most in control of himself, ironically. He didn’t know how badly he’d end up regretting that. 

The battle, Corypheus, the red lyrium addled mages, it had all been so much chaos, and all of it drawing Aelyth in the opposite direction. The seconds he did manage to see her, there was so much going on, with not even a spare second to whisper his thoughts. The only words he spoke to her were bitter words of death, loss, and sacrifice. When they’d received word about the escape route, and she’d offered herself as a way to buy them more time, every fiber inside of him had wanted to scream. He’d wanted to grab her shoulders, shake her, tell her there was no way he’d allow it, even if the soldier in him knew it was their best chance. And he’d had to stay calm, in control, despite the storm raging inside of him, and let her go.

She’d taken Bull with her, and Blackwall and Dorian. When they found their way into the tunnels behind the rest of them, his foolish heart had hoped it meant she was behind them. He knew better. Especially when Bull gave him a subtle head shake and look of deep regret. She was gone. No matter how he wanted to believe that she was out there, alive, that Andraste would not have lead her to him and then taken her away, the reality of the situation told him otherwise. She was gone, and all the warmth inside of him had gone with her.

He lead, as he was meant to do, through the snow and mountains, finding a place that seemed relatively safe, but his heart wasn’t in it. He could no longer offer a smile, or words of consolation, so he barely spoke. He didn’t sleep. Sleep meant nightmares, ones that had now taken the shape of her. Frozen, buried beneath mountains of snow. Reduced to ash in the flame of a dragon. Broken, bloodied, on the ground before him and begging him to put an end to her misery. 

When he wasn’t needed, he hid in the shadows of his tent, or crouched in a corner, unnoticed, and wept. Once more, he’d been tested, and once more, he had failed. Day by day, prayers that she’d return, unharmed, grew fewer, until he prayed no more, unless it was to give him the courage to end his pain. Bull had taken to watching him, saying nothing, but, he knew. Given his line of work, Cullen guessed that a Bull had probably known even before he had. Not that any of it mattered. 

The cold gnawed at their bones just as hunger gnawed at their stomachs, and doubt chewed their souls. Even the ever perky Josephine could find no bright side, no words to ease the dark clouds hanging in their hearts. They had survived the battle, but to what end? Their home, their safety was gone, the Herald was gone. What was left? 

Only darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

I am going to die.

The words burn through her brain as she falls, the bitter wind whistling among the sound of crashing rocks and breaking timber. This is who she is, this is what she was made for, a blood sacrifice for a man who would be a god. Her body will break, bones crashing, blood spilling as she lands, the messiest of endings. If she is lucky, it will all be over then. If she is not, it will be slow. Long, drawn out, a measured decay of her body before it gives up the ghost. But there is one thing she is sure of.

I am going to die.

And then she doesn’t. Somehow, she lands alright, a bit bruised, sore, and freezing cold, but alive. She wants to move, but her arms are heavy, her legs like lead. She’s tired, so tired, and this place calls to her. Sleep, it says. So she does.

When she wakes, everything is black. She can’t feel anything, every part of her body numb with cold. Or maybe not. May this is death, consciousness without action, awareness without sight. But before she understands, it slips away again.

Migraine. Hangover. This is what it feels like, the lightening bolts of pain in her head, the sky too bright even before she opens her eyes. No, not sky. Not blue. White. Whiteness, snow, stretching as far as she can see. She begins to move, every twitch shooting pain so deep it runs to her bone, scrapes at her soul. But she has to move. There is so much to be done, and she must be the one to do it, she knows that now. Every step takes more effort than she thinks she has in her, but somehow, she presses on. It is slow, so much slower than she’d like. The others, they’re out there, waiting. She has to see that they are safe. 

Cullen stood, staring into the white abyss, hoping without believing that Aelyth was out there somewhere, making her way to them. He’d heard the crash, Bull and the others told him what they’d seen. She’d leapt into a hole, and snow had covered it so deeply that only the thaw of spring would expose it again. She was gone, but still his foolish heart hoped. It was all he had.

Then there was something, a twitch, dark among the white of the snow. Surely his eyes were playing tricks on him? No, there it was again. Cassandra approached, and he put out his hand, catching her across the stomach. She would tell him he was wrong, he knew.”

“There. Do you see, in the distance?”

Cassandra peered out carefully, and Cullen heard her breath catch. 

“Guards! To me!”

She tore out into the snow, Cullen on her heels. He didn’t dare hope, he prayed. Sweet Maker, let it be her. Let her have made it.

She was there.

Time stopped for Cullen as he took in the sight of her. She was bruised heavily, cheeks red and chapped from the wind and snow, and her clothes were torn. He took a few steps toward her, where the Cassandra held her up, and suddenly her eyes were fixed on him. Their deep, jewel green stood out in the frozen wastes, like an oasis in the desert, and he felt his heart trembling at the sight of her, however battered. She tried to smile, only managing a weak uptick of one corner of her mouth, and moved to step forward, out of Cassandra’s grasp. Then she fell into his arms.

He’d let no one help him as he carried her to the makeshift camp, calling out to the healer as soon as he was in earshot. He knew the desperation he felt was clear in his voice, but at that moment, he didn’t care. She was here, alive, and in his arms, even if he might wish it was for a different reason. As she was treated, cleaned and bandaged, changed into fresh clothes, he stayed nearby, afraid to let her out of his sight. Maker forgive him, he knew it was pathetic, and if the situation had been different, tongues would have been wagging already. Now, though, the only acknowledgement it got was a sly half smile from Cassandra, and a single nod of approval from The Iron Bull.

She slept for days. So long he was almost afraid she wouldn’t wake at all. Time and time again he sat in his tent and thought of what he might say to her when she woke. He wanted- no, he needed to tell her how he felt. After Kirkwall, he’d thought his life would never be bright again, and he’d prepared himself for the loneliness that would inevitably be his fate. Then, suddenly, she’d appeared on the horizon, and brought the color back to his world. He thought he’d lost her without letting her know what she meant to him, and he didn’t want to risk that happening again. Next time, he might not be so lucky. 

The problem was that he was a soldier, not a poet, and everything he could come up with sounded stupid and false. She had so much weighing on her already, he didn’t want to burden her with expectations she couldn’t meet, or add pressure to feel something she didn’t. He wanted her to know, but not feel obligated. It was enough for him that she existed in the world, something so utterly good and pure. If she cared for him as well, he’d be over the moon, of course, but he didn’t want her to feel that he expected her to.

He tortured himself over it spectacularly. It had to be perfect, something appropriately special, without being over the top. In his fantasies, he’d be sitting by her bed when she woke, the first face she saw. She’d give him a smile, and he would take her hand gently, kissing her fingers and telling her how grateful he was that she’d made it back to him. She’d read between the lines, and he wouldn’t even have to speak any more, just open his arms to her as she leaned in and kissed him.

In reality, he didn’t even realize she’d awakened, too deep in argument with Cassandra and Leliana about their next move. He’d looked up to see her standing beside Mother Giselle, the two deep in conversation, and forgotten about the others entirely. He wanted to go to her, but she looked so sad, so broken, he didn’t dare. Panic gripped him, now that he was faced with the possibility of actually telling her. Maker, she had so much to deal with, maybe he’d just be adding to the list. He turned, making for the safety of his tent as the tension in the camp grew.

Cullen. That had been her last thought before she’d passed out. The entire trek out, she’d worried for him, knowing how easily he put the well-being of others above his own. He would be the last to enter the tunnels, she knew, if he made it out at all. The not knowing had been agony, and wanting to know the driving force when she felt as if her legs couldn’t carry her further. And then he’d been there, in front of her, and she’d never felt such sweetness in her heart. He was alive, he’d made it out.

She’d wanted to head straight to him when she woke, but Mother Giselle had told her the others were all busy arguing, and it wouldn’t do any good to add another voice. So she’d waited, doing her best to keep an eye on him as he moved through the camp. When he disappeared into his tent, she thought it might be a good time, but Bull caught her on the way over, asking if she had a minute.

“Hey, boss.”

“Bull. Did you need something?”

He lead her to the edge of camp before speaking.

“Talk to him.”

She furrowed her brow. “What? Talk to who?”

Bull gave her a significant look. “You know damn well who, boss. Cullen. Never seen a man so taken with a woman, but too afraid to talk to her.”

“Uh-huh. And how, exactly, do you know he’s ‘taken’ with me?”

“You’re not stupid, I know you’ve seen it too. The way he looks at you, the way his eyes follow nearly every move you make. The way he stands straighter when you walk up, or the way he blushes any time you pay him the slightest compliment, or you touch him.” He leaned further in to whisper to her. “He was a mess while you were gone. Beside himself. You know Cullen, nothing out of place, always on top of everything. But not then. And when you came back-“ he paused, shrugging. “He’s so in love with you even he can’t see it.”

“But you can?”

“Ben-hassrath, remember? Noticing things is my job.”

“Then maybe you should’ve noticed I was on my way to see him.”

“Good. So tell him you feel the same way, the two of you can make like nugs in his tent, and I can stop feeling the need to slap you every time you talk to each other.”

She rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at him over her shoulder as she walked away. As she approached, Cullen stood, hands held awkwardly at his sides. She’d just opened her mouth to speak when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Solas was there, behind her.

“May I speak with you a moment?”

Solas had never cared to speak with her before, and she had tried. When she’d first seen him, she’d hoped they could be friends, certain they’d have much in common. As it turned out, he had rather a low opinion of the Dalish, and less of an opinion of a human who’d been raised by them. “It is as if you said a Halla raised by nugs was one of them”, he’d said, and she’d pointedly left him alone after that. 

She looked to Cullen, who gestured her to go on. Not that it would have mattered, Solas had already started walking away, not bothering to wait for an answer. She met him at the top of a hill nearby, overlooking a great expanse of mountains. The night sky stretched above them, the stars clear for the first time since they’d left Haven. It would have been beautiful, if she hadn’t been so worried about what Solas was going to say.

Cullen watched as the two strode over to the hill, noticing for the first time how similarly the two walked. Solas might have been tall, thin, and lithe, taking strides nearly twice the length of Aelyth’s, but they both had the same proudness in their walk. The same squared shoulders, the same self-assured gaze. For a moment, he wondered if it was an Elven thing, but they’d been raised very differently, Solas had told him when he’d asked. He was so absorbed in watching them, he jumped when The Iron Bull came up behind him, clearing his throat.

“So talk to her, already.”

Cullen turned on his heel, frowning. “And say what, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. I worship the ground you walk on, I’d give my life for you, whatever it is you humans say when you’re in love with each other.”

Cullen’s frown grew deeper, and he turned quickly to avoid Bull seeing the blush he knew was rising. 

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

Bull scoffed. “Yes you do. Come on, Cullen. You’re so in love with her you can’t bear to leave her alone, even as she’s being treated from days of trudging through the snow after having half of Haven collapse on her.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but she is The Herald of Andraste, the symbol of The Inquisition. It’s rather my job to be sure she’s alright.”

“Even as she’s being stripped to her smalls and cleaned?” Bull raised a suggestive eyebrow, making Cullen’s face go positively red. He’d definitely hit a nerve there. Good to know.

As he saw Aelyth approaching, Bull took his leave, figuring Cullen my try to fight him if he stayed any longer. Cullen looked down, pretending to be searching through the papers before him as Aelyth walked up.

“What did Bull want?”

“Nonsense, as usual, I suspect. I didn’t have much of a chance to find out. What about Solas?”

She shifted, leaning against the table in front of him. “He says he knows of a place, a stronghold where we can be safe. It’s been abandoned for some time, probably needs some work, but he assures me it’s secure.”

“If he’s correct, it would prove invaluable.”

She nodded. The two stared at each other for a few moments, then opened their mouths to speak at the same time. After a bout of laughter, Cullen insisted she go first. She smiled faintly, then opened her mouth.

“Cullen, I-“

“Herald!”

She rolled her eyes. More demands on her time. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to even bathe without someone looking over her shoulder. With a short apology to Cullen, she trotted off, leaving him to watch her as she listened to Leliana’s brief. Then Cassandra drew her to the maps, where she stayed for quite some time before Mother Giselle came. Soon, she was walking among the masses, comforting, tending, and feeding. Cullen shook his head. She’d give of herself until there was nothing left, then give more somehow, he was sure of it. She hadn’t even healed completely, but was working harder than she had in weeks. 

After a bit, he decided that the least he could do was make sure she fed herself. He gathered some stew and bread, and headed to where she sat, briefly undisturbed. Without speaking, he handed it to her, then sat beside her to dig into his own. He’d barely gotten through two mouthfuls when she sat the bowl down, empty. 

“Maker’s breath! When was the last time you ate?”

“Honestly? I’m not really sure.”

“Things are quiet now, so you should probably rest before they start calling after you again.”

“Cullen, I’ve had days of sleep. I think I’ll be fine a little longer.”

Then she broke out into a yawn, making Cullen laugh.

“That’s not what it looks like.” Gently, he patted her knee. “Aelyth, get some rest,” he said quietly. 

She nodded, and he expected her to get up and head to her tent. Instead, she leaned towards him, placing her head on his shoulder. He couldn’t imagine it was very comfortable- he was still wearing his armor, after all. But the thrill of having her near, her hair tickling his neck as she shifted, the smell of her skin filling his nostrils, kept him from suggesting she’d be more comfortable elsewhere. Selfish, he knew. He should have made sure she got decent rest, but after the fear he felt, the desperation when he thought he’d lost her, he thought he deserved a moment or two of selfishness.


	5. Chapter 5

How long had they walked along those mountain paths, some so narrow they’d barely seemed like paths at all? It had seemed like months. Solas refused to give any details, and there was little to do but put one foot in front of the other, so Aelyth let her mind wander. Often, her thoughts were on the charming Commander Cullen. How could a person be so strong and sure on the battlefield, but so clueless when it came to so many other things? 

She’d been making it a point to spend time with him as often as she could, but that wasn’t much. Both of them had duties pulling them away constantly. When she did get the time, neither seemed to be able to find much to say, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, not really. It was nice. Usually she heard so many voices, asking questions, making requests, briefing her on important affairs, that they all blended together. Not with him. Sometimes, especially at first, he’d tried to make conversation, or brief her on the things he’d learned. But she’d stopped that when she’d put her palm on his forearm and told him she just needed a break, a few moments of quiet beside him.

When they finally reached the promised stronghold, she couldn’t help but gasp. It was so much more than she’d expected. Skyhold, that was its name, and it was beautiful, high on the mountain, surrounded by the clouds that hung low in the sky. It was half crumbling, that was true, but even in that state it was impressive. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like when it was repaired.

Everyone went about their respective jobs, finding the space they deemed most suitable for their purpose. The soldiers and any capable volunteers went about repairs, while everyone else hung about the garden and courtyard, still living out of tents. Aelyth briefly visited the healers, the soldiers, the cooks, all of the little people that made the Inquisition run, thanking them for their service, their trust. She knew it was the right thing to do when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sera watching her, haughty smirk on her face. 

When Cassandra called her over, she was sure it was to discuss strategy again, especially since Leliana and Josephine was with her. She began talk of finding an official leader for the Inquisition, and Aelyth immediately began making lists in her head. If they were there, asking her, she was certain they weren’t interested in the position, so she omitted Cassandra from the list, even though she thought she was perfect. Cullen would likely refuse the job, but perhaps he could recommend someone? Solas was the one who knew the most about the mark, the breach, and Corypheus, it seemed, so he would be a natural choice. She was so deep in thought, at first she didn’t realize they’d asked her. But there was the sword, and their eyes were all on her.

“Me? Why me?”

Cassandra stepped up. “You have already been leading, whether you intended it to be so or not. You have the mark, and the people look to you.”

She shook her head. “No, but I was a prisoner . . . and I . . .” She looked at each of the. In turn. “I’ve only done what needed to be done.”

“That is why you must be the one to lead.” Leliana’s voice was clear, certain. 

Aelyth looked over the gathering crowd, all eyes upon her as this new responsibility was thrust toward her. In the center of them, she saw Cullen, his eyes trained on her and shining with pride. He believed she could do this, that she was worthy of it. Her heart twisted in her chest, deep fondness for him washing over her. If he expected it of her, she could do it. She would do it.

The cheers that echoed rang in her ears. Inquisitor was quite a lofty title, more so in many ways than The Herald of Andraste. As the Herald, she could often walk among the crowds unnoticed, tending quietly to what needed to be done. She had a feeling that wouldn’t be so easy as The Inquisitor. Eyes followed her everywhere, after that moment, and as soon as she walked away, Josephine began to pour responsibilities in her lap. Politics, law, religion, she soon found herself expected to be a shining example in every area, more than a human could possibly be.

Vivienne cornered her in the courtyard the very first time she left the castle, fussing over her appearance. Suddenly, it seemed that the worn tunic and leathers she’d worn some form of for the rest of her life just wouldn’t do. She needed to be stylish, fashionable. Vivienne expected gowns! By the breath of Andraste, if they expected her to hunt and tend the wounded in gowns, she’d outright scream. And she wasn’t going to give up on doing those things.

Sera, at least, approved of that, as did Cole. Both of them valued helping the “little people”, and Bull didn’t particularly care, so long as he got to kill things. So there was that. But so many others, they all seemed to have some idea of exactly who she was supposed to be, and none of it felt like her. More than once, she wondered why they’d picked her for the job, if they just wanted her to be someone else. Even Cassandra and Leliana had expectations, and Varric suddenly seemed afraid of her.

She walked to what she’d thought was a secluded area, only to find Cullen standing behind a makeshift desk and surrounded by soldiers. While she looked on, he moved seamlessly between questions and orders, never thinking twice. Like a fish to water, she thought. He existed for this sort of thing, the dance of tension and authority, waiting for the battle that was sure to come. He’d have been a much better choice.

He glanced up from his work to see Aelyth standing a few feet away, watching him. Suddenly all of the work he had before him seemed unimportant. He turned to the soldiers, excusing himself, and went to her. Once he was in front of her, he found he had nothing to say, despite everything he wanted to tell her.

“Uhm, hello, Inquisitor. Was there something you needed?”

She smiled. “Rather a lofty title, don’t you think? I’m not sure it suits me.”

“I think it does.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that your official answer?”

“I suppose it is,” he chuckled. “I can’t think of anyone more deserving.”

She shrugged, turning to the side. “But we still lost so many. I couldn’t keep them safe. Why did I live, and they die? It doesn’t seem fair. I was willing to die, I’d agreed to it, but they didn’t.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. You couldn’t have known what would happen. Our soldiers, our recruits, they knew the risks, what might be asked of them. They were willing to die, for you.”

“I don’t want anyone to die for me.” She turned back to face him. “Cullen . . . when everything went . . . when I had to leave . . . ,” she swallowed, catching his eyes with her own. “I’m just glad that you . . . that so many made it out.”

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and his heart ached for her. To feel so helpless, so alone with all of the weight she had on her shoulders, it was so wrong, so much less than she deserved.

“As am I.” 

She turned to go, but impulsively, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back towards him.

“When I thought I’d lost . . . .” His voice broke slightly, giving away how much pain he’d felt, and he looked deeply into her eyes. “I swear to you, I will never let anything like that happen again.”

His hand was still wrapped around her wrist, sliding down towards her palm. Their hearts were pounding, each wondering if this was it, if this was the moment that pretenses were dropped and they admitted their feelings for each other. Then there was a sharp cough behind him.

“Commander, I-“

Both jerked their hands away at the same instance, giving a sad, apologetic look to each other. Cullen moved back to his desk to continue working, and Aelyth moved onward, to check on the others around camp.

That night, unlike so many others, Cullen dreamed. He was in a tent, much like the ones they’d used on the way to Skyhold, made of heavy fabric, the flaps closed. Spacious, for a tent. He could stand fully upright in it, and there was a bed, and a small desk in one corner, with an ink pot and a quill. He looked down to see that he was dressed only in his leather breeches and his tunic, his armor discarded beside the bed. It was most unlike him, he thought, to leave them so messy, and he went to retrieve them, setting them to rights on the desk. He’d just laid them down when the sound of the flap opening made him jerk around to see who was there. 

It was Aelyth, dressed in a long tunic, with her hair pulled back from her face in a braid. Cullen had never seen her without her hair up, pinned to the back of her head to stay out of her way. It was beautiful, soft brown that fell to her waist, with tufts of fuzz from her unruly curls sticking out all over. She smiled as she walked over to him, reaching her hands out to him, and he was surprised to see he’d taken hold of them as she pulled herself near him. She stood on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, then wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Come to bed. You work too hard.”

As he slipped beneath the furs with her, he felt the warmth of her hand on his chest. He looked to where she was leaning on her elbow, and she reached to brush some hair from his forehead, letting her fingers trail against his cheek.

“Cullen, you know I love you, don’t you?”

In his dream, he cupped her face tenderly. “Always. As I do you.”

He leaned forward to meet her mouth with his, heat rushing below his waist as she ran her tongue along the edge of his lip. She made to pull back, a mischievous smile on her face, but he chased her, holding the back of her neck and pulling her down into another kiss. Lips parted as his tongue slipped into her mouth, a small moan coming from her. He swallowed it, kissing her harder as he felt the way she grasped at his tunic. Maker, her kisses were so sweet, so passionate and full of love, he could hardly contain himself. 

He rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed as his mouth explored the tenderness of her neck, finding the spots that made her moan and gasp in pleasure. She was pawing at his tunic now, doing her best to pull it up, even with most of his weight resting on it, so he leaned back and tossed it to the side before returning to his study of her body. The feeling of her skin against his, her palms running over his back and down to squeeze the curve of his ass, stoked the desire within him, already an unbearable heat. He brought a hand to her breast, cupping it, pinching her nipple gently as he bit that perfect spot just beneath her ear. 

She cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him closer. The hard line of his cock pressed against her, and she started rolling her hips, moaning his name softly. He reached between them, unlacing his pants, and drew out his cock. It was thick, swollen and purple with desire, dripping for her already. He didn’t think he’d ever been this hard before, or wanted someone this badly. 

She pulled up her tunic, revealing the hot, pink wetness between her legs, and Cullen lost all control. He pressed against her opening, sliding inside her as she gasped. His thrusts were hard, hot, relentless. He’d never felt anything so good in his life. As her fingernails grazed the length of his back, the coil in his stomach began to twist, tightening with every thrust, every time she cried his name. He kissed her hard.

“Maker, Aelyth, I love you.”

“Cullen . . . ,” she gasped, then called his name again.

The coil within him had wound as tightly as it would go, the sweet feeling of her around him, calling his name in that voice . . . he couldn’t hold back any longer. He was spilling inside her, the tight ache in his stomach pulsing as he collapsed across her. The last thing he heard was her telling him she loved him again and again.

He woke with a start, groaning as he felt the sticky wetness against him. He was glad he’d not been plagued by nightmares, but, Andraste’s breath, was he naive strip of a youth all over again? Not to mention the fact that there was no way he’d be able to look in her eyes after a dream like that, not without thinking about the way she’d called his name, or the feel of her nails down his back. And he’d just been starting to feel like he might be able to tell her how he felt, too.

He cleaned himself as surreptitiously as he could, then dressed and began his daily routine. Each time the memories of his dream began to surface, he threw himself further into his work. She tried to see him three times, and each time he made an excuse, doing his best to get away as quickly as he could. He wanted to see her, but the second he heard her voice, he felt a hot blush creeping up his cheeks.

After the third time she tried to see him, Aelyth decided to give up, at least for a few days. She strongly suspected the Commander had been avoiding her, and she wasn’t sure exactly why. It seemed that they’d been so close to finally coming out and saying it, telling each other that they cared, then it had slipped away. Maybe he didn’t care the way she thought he did. Or at all. 

This was all so difficult, dealing with so many things at once, and she wanted just one of them to be simple.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the sound of weeping that drew him, soft sobs coming from a deserted corner of the battlements. He often walked there, when he needed time to think, or clear his head. Not only did it mean that he was, for a few precious moments, wonderfully alone, but there was an incredible view, nothing but clouds and mountaintops as far as the eye could see. Cullen thought that it must be something of what heaven looked like.

When he found the source, he was surprised to see Aelyth sitting there, curled in a tight ball with her arms around her knees. The red around her eyes suggested she’d been crying for some time. Carefully, Cullen kneeled beside her.

“Inquisitor,” he began, then corrected himself “ . . . Aelyth. What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, then looked at him. “They . . . they brought me the list. Of the ones we lost in Haven. And I have to write their families letters. Josephine assured me that someone else could take care of it, but, Cullen, those people died for me, for the cause that I am the face of. How can I not have the decency to at least write the letters myself?”

More than anything else, in that moment, he wanted to pull her against his chest, comfort her as she cried. He knew the feeling all too well, he’d had to write many similar letters himself, over the years. It never got easier.

“Cullen, I’m not cut out to be inquisitor. I cannot be. There is so much responsibility, so much pain, so much loss, and I feel it all so deeply. They are already asking me to decide who should live and who should die! Maker, these are decisions I have no right to make.”

“And that is why it is you who must make them. Because you feel as you do, because you understand what’s at stake, and you won’t make a decision lightly. I’ve seen generals standing at a table hundreds of miles away knowingly send thousands of men to die, then raise a glass five minutes later, never thinking once of the wives, the children, the mothers. But you do. You will make sure that as few lives are lost in this as possible, and that the lives that are lost are remembered.”

Though he was afraid, he raised a hand, running a finger along the tracks of her tears.

“As I said, I can think of no one more worthy.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, then she moved to stand. Cullen stood first, offering her his hand, and she took it, not letting go even after she was standing. Instead, she squeezed it lightly, then stretched to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

As she walked away, he reached up to touch the spot she’d kissed. He could swear his skin was tingling, and his body was much warmer than it had been earlier. When he walked back to his office, it was with a stupid grin plastered on his face, one that stayed there for the rest of the day. 

Aelyth was in a much better mood after her time on the battlements, though she still wished she wasn’t the one having to make the big decisions. Construction around the castle was well underway, and a Josephine had promised her that she’d put a bath high on the list of priorities. Soon the work on her room would be done, hopefully by the time she’d come back from meeting Varric’s friend Hawke’s Warden connection. Hawke was a strange woman, but lovely. Under different circumstances, she thought they might even be friends. Hawke was probably the only person in the world who could even remotely understand the pressures she was under.

She’d been assured that the trip to Crestwood would be a short one, merely to meet this Warden and get any information he had. As usual, this was a vast oversimplification. Sure, she could have let the undead overrun the place, ignoring the rift, but, technically, she could also ignore Corypheus and his mad attempts to make himself a god. It just wasn’t in her nature. Then there were the bandits, the wyvern, oh, and the dragon.

She had to admit the dragon had actually been kind of fun, one she got over the whole “it might kill me” thing. With four people, it was pretty easy to keep the thing confused and distracted, striking whatever direction it wasn’t looking. Adrenaline took over quickly, and she found herself screaming madly, raining poisoned arrows on it and ducking beneath its tail. It was such a rush! And watching Bull had been great fun, he was completely insane. At one point, just before they killed it, he leapt directly at its head, burying his greataxe in it’s neck, and she’d actually thought he might have an orgasm then and there. 

Thanks to that, Aelyth was in high spirits when she returned, even if a few days had turned into nearly three weeks. They’d left troops to guard the dragon carcass until they could figure out what to do with it, and that was why she headed directly to Cullen. He was an expert in armor, and she felt certain the light weight and extreme durability of the dragon’s skin, scales, and bone could be used to the benefit of the Inquisition. 

He’d clearly been busy lately, because he didn’t even look up when Aelyth knocked on the door of his office. He merely snapped for whoever was there to “come on in and get out with it”. She sauntered over, smiling, and stood beside his desk, waiting. When he finally lifted his head to yell at whoever was just standing there, saying nothing, she watched with great joy as the angry furrowed brow raised and his eyes went wide. A broad smile stretched across his face.

“My apologies, Inquisitor, I had no idea you’d returned! Had I known, I would have been there to greet you . . . .”

“Which is exactly why I told them not to announce me. I wanted to surprise you.” She fidgeted slightly with something held behind her back. “Listen, Cullen, I have a question to ask you, but first, there’s something I’d like to give you.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Alright . . . .”

“Sit down and close your eyes.”

“Inquisitor, is this really-“

“Just do it!”

She was bouncing on the balls of her feet like a child, and he had to admit it was rather adorable. It was perhaps the first time he’d ever seen her look so incredibly happy or so thoroughly excited, and it suited her. With a smile, he sat down behind his desk, closing his eyes.

“I hope you know, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone,” he teased.

“Well then, lucky me.”

The drop in her voice and mischievous tone sent shivers down his spine, and a dark, shameful part of his mind couldn’t help but think of a variety of directions this could go in, none of which resulted in the two of them remaining dressed. He pushed those thoughts away as best he could, focusing instead on the rustling sound he heard, a soft thud, and then her soft thigh against his arm as she perched on the edge of his desk.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

A large, dark fang sat on his desk, almost as long as his forearm and nearly as wide as her waist. She must have noticed the confusion on his face.

“It’s a dragon’s tooth. Well, technically half of one. It broke when I took it out.”

Cullen’s eyes grew wide. “A what? Aelyth, where did you get a dragon’s tooth from?”

Her smile broadened until it nearly split her face into as she beamed at him. 

“I killed it. Cullen, it’s a piece of a tooth from the very first dragon I’ve ever killed!”

“You killed a dragon?” He couldn’t stop the horror from seeping into his voice. “Maker, what if you’d died?”

He regretted his words immediately as her face fell, and he could’ve kicked himself.

“I didn’t do it alone. Bull, and Sera, and Dorian helped. It was terrorizing the villagers, I couldn’t just leave it!” The way her lip trembled slightly, though incredibly endearing, made Cullen feel even more ashamed. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I was excited, and I wanted to share it with you. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

He stood, putting a hand at her elbow. “No, I’m sorry. I just . . . .” He sighed. “Thank you. Sincerely. But are you sure you don’t want it? It’s quite a special trophy, after all.”

She shook her head. “That’s why I wanted you to have it. Besides, I’ve still got half of it.”

Before he could think on the implications of her words, she plowed ahead into a conversation about the potential uses of the materials in weaponry and armor. He knew of some craftsmen, pains to deal with, but could work wonders with dragon scales and such, and promised he’d put her in touch. She thanked him, then went on her way to converse with Josephine about all of the politics she’d missed while she was gone. As she headed out the door, she turned back to Cullen.

“Politics, ugh. Frankly, I think I’d rather face a dragon.”

He chuckled. “As would I.”

She’d been gone for perhaps half an hour when Cullen as surprised to find The Iron Bull standing in his doorway.

“Can I come in?”

Cullen nodded, and Bull tucked himself through the doorway, looming over Cullen’s desk. After a few minutes, he touched the half tooth that Aelyth had given him.

“Dragon’s tooth. Pretty rare.”

“So I’ve heard.”

There was a stretch of silence, while Cullen wondered if Bull had come in for any specific reason. He just stood there, staring at the tooth, gently running his finger along the length of it. Finally, he looked directly into Cullen’s eyes as he spoke.

“In the Qun, we don’t have marriage. We have friends, we love our friends, but we’re told who to mate with, bred specifically for certain jobs. But sometimes, there are two Qunari who, for whatever reason, feel a special connection to each other. They know that they want to spend the rest of their lives knowing each other, remaining as close as they possibly can. When that happens, there’s a little . . . well, it’s not exactly a ceremony, more of a gift.” He paused, tapping the tooth. “Dragons are sacred to Qunari, symbolizing raw, untamed power. Killing one is an enormous accomplishment. So, when two Qunari want to show others that they want to be together, one of them kills a dragon. Then they split the tooth in two pieces, each taking half, so that they know that, no matter how far apart they are, they’re always together.”

“I’m quite sure Aelyth didn’t know that when she gave it to me.”

Bull raised an eyebrow. “She definitely did. I told her the story on the way home.”

As Bull left, Cullen stared ahead, stunned by the information he’d just been given. Surely Aelyth hadn’t meant that sort of thing? They were . . . friends, certainly, and he hoped that perhaps one day they’d be more, but it’s not like either of them had actually mentioned anything of the sort. He could barely speak to her without blushing, most of the time, and she’d never really given him any signals that she was interested, right?

Except for the tooth. And kissing his cheek before. The way she’d let his hand slide down as he promised her he’d keep her safe, and the way she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder before they had reached Skyhold . . . .

Andraste preserve him, was he an idiot?

He’d been so determined to believe that he would never be good enough for her that he’d failed to even consider the possibility that she might actually care for him. It was a thought that terrified him almost as much as it thrilled him. If she did, if she felt something for him, too, then-

But would it be proper? She was, technically speaking, his superior. Not to mention the fact that they were in the midst of a war, one than put the whole of Thedas at risk, and people tended to talk. It could ruin her reputation, if she were found to be involved with one of her subordinates, particularly where it came to the Chantry. If the Inquisition was to be religious in nature, and she the Herald of Andraste, then shouldn’t she go through the process of proper betrothal, a political joining that put the interests of a Thedas first?

Still, there was a beast within him that bristled at such a lack of passion. He might not believe that he was good enough for her, station wise, but he firmly believed that she deserved to be loved by whoever she ended up with, and not just any love. She deserved the most passionate, the most selfless love imaginable. To be nearly worshipped, taken care of, but without limiting her freedom. She deserved, well . . . she deserved the sort of love that he was desperate to give to her.

“Cullen Rutherford, you are an absolute fool,” he muttered to himself. 

Titles and propriety aside, he couldn’t think of a single reason not to try courting her, or at least see of she were interested in the possibility. The only thing stopping him was fear and shame, and he knew both were only excuses. When he thought back to the events just after Haven, when he thought she’d been lost . . . more than anything he’d regretted not letting her know how he felt, not giving her the opportunity to accept or reject him. If that happened again, and she were truly lost to him, he knew he would regret it for the rest of his days. She filled his heart with joy like he’d never known before, just by being there, existing in the same world he did. If she were to reject him, he would still feel that. But if she accepted him, Maker, he’d be the happiest man alive.

There was just one problem. He had absolutely no idea how to go about it, and no one to ask. Given their conversation earlier, Bull would probably be willing to give him some advice, but he wasn’t sure it would be of a variety he felt comfortable with. Sera would be more concerned with teasing him than giving him advice, and Dorian and Vivienne would probably have some grand scheme he could never properly execute. Varric- Maker knows, he’d tease him, and then probably let all of Skyhold know. This was going to take some very serious thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Aelyth trudged through the courtyard, nearly tripping over a loose stone. She was tired, bone tired, but sleep was once again out of her reach. It had been happening more often, lately, as the reality of what happened in Haven settled in, and the nightmares began. Andraste, they were horrible. The same shrill screams of victims, caught in the flames, and she couldn’t save them no matter how she tried. Then, they come back to her once she had made it to safety, weeping, moaning, asking her what right she had, choosing those who lived or died. Why hadn’t she saved them all?

Always, it ended with their brittle hands on her skin, dust and ash, dry bones scraping at her flesh. Pulling her back into the heart of the flames to burn with them. She’d wake up, her mouth dry, drenched in sweat, with tears running down her face. There was no going back to sleep after that, no matter how exhausted she might be. She’d taken to getting an early start instead, or pacing the battlements in the hope it would exhaust her enough that she could get a few precious hours more sleep. 

On this night, she arrived to see another figure standing in the moonlight. Even from behind, there was no mistaking those broad shoulders or blonde curls, despite how messy they looked.

“Hello, Cullen.”

She slipped up beside him, looking out into the stars. It was a beautifully clear night, with every star seeming just a bit larger, brighter, more beautiful. It was the kind of night she loved. Back when she’d been traveling with the clan, nights like this were when she’d set out on her own, spreading her blanket on an open field to bathe in the light of the stars. 

“Hello. Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head. “Not anymore. Not since Haven. I keep hearing them, you know, the voices of the ones we lost. They call me, ask me why I let them die. All night long.”

He turned to look at her, sadness in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I probably deserve it, anyway. It just-“ she sighed. “I just wish I could get us through this, without anyone having to die. Or at least anyone else. Foolish, I know.”

“Not foolish. Kind. Any decent leader wishes they never had to lose a soldier, even if they know it’s impossible.”

“Is that how you feel?”

She looked towards him, eyes bright with curiosity. With a small degree of difficulty, he met her eyes.

“Yes.”

Her hand slipped over the stone of the wall, gently reaching towards his. Though his heart was pounding, he did his best to stay still, to not anticipate her movement and try to rush things. When her fingertips brushed across his, he felt almost as if he couldn’t breathe. It was like watching a wild animal, terrified that the smallest movement might scare it away. 

“At least I know I’m in good company.” She gave him a wry smile before asking him quietly, “do you have nightmares, too?”

“Yes.”

It was the simple answer, but it barely scratched the surface. Night terrors would probably fit more appropriately. They were horrible, vivid dreams of every atrocity he’d ever faced, committed, or witnessed, and they chased him through sleep almost constantly. He’d had them for years now, and what happened at Haven had only added to the rotation of horrors. He prayed that she wouldn’t ask him what they were. Lately, far too many of them involved her, lost, hurt, alone. Being tortured, sometimes at his own hand, and those were the ones that came the closest to making him shed tears. 

Instead, she wrapped her fingers gently around his before looking up to the sky.

“Do you know much about the stars?”

“Not as much as I would like. I’ve learned the names and positions of a few constellations, only enough to navigate by.”

She nodded. “I love the stars. There were times as I was growing up that I felt like the stars were the only friends I had. It’s difficult, when you’re a human in the company of elves. There are things, parts of their culture, that can only be shared with others of their kind. Sacred. And not all of the elves, even in the clan I was part of, were accepting of me.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Let’s just say that when the few friends I had began coupling up, exploring the company of others, I was left quite lonely. I’m considered rather ugly by Elven standards, you know. Too large. Too broad shouldered, muscular instead of lithe and limber. And then there was my hair. Not the sleek tresses of my adopted kin. Just this shock of twisted fluff on top of my head. I didn’t even know how to comb it properly for years, well into adulthood!”

He smiled at her laughter. “There’s a certain method to combing your hair?”

“Oh, Maker, yes! You have curls,” she reached to play fondly with his hair, making his heart flutter, “but you keep them short, so it’s easy. But my hair is very, very long. I’ve never done more than trim it, so it’s just past my waist. I have to comb it when it’s wet, or I break combs. Sometimes even then. And if I don’t keep it pinned up, or braided, it goes everywhere. You could get lost in my hair.”

He smiled, reaching to touch a loose curl. Without thinking he spoke.

“I’d like to see your hair down. What it would look like-“ he stopped suddenly, gaining him a confused look, and he felt that blush rising again. He’d nearly said ‘what it would look like spread across your pillow in the morning’, and had only barely realized how inappropriate that might sound. However true it might be.

To his surprise, she reached up and began unraveling her braid. It took several minutes, with a few pauses to untangle a knot or two, but when she was done, it hung thickly over her shoulders, reaching her hips. She tried to shake it out a little, but only succeeded in tangling it across her face. As she grunted in frustration, Cullen reached up, carefully parting the long locks to reveal her face again.

“It’s not as curly as it would be if I let it dry out loose. I’d have ringlets everywhere.”

“Maker, that would be a sight.” Cullen laughed. “But it’s beautiful.”

“It makes me feel like a wild animal. With this much hair, I could be a wolf, or a bear.” She bared her teeth at him, growling playfully.

“Terrifying,” he said with a small laugh.

She returned his smile, leaning towards him and pressing her cheek into the palm of his hand. It was soft, and warm, and what Cullen wanted to do more than anything else in that moment was place a hand on the other side of her face and kiss her with all the passion he felt inside of him. He let himself lean into the fantasy, just a bit, imagining the way she’d return his kiss, biting his bottom lip softly before pulling away just enough to invite him to her room. Him, sliding a hand down the curve of her back to rest at her waist as she leaned into him, her hands pressed against his chest.

He cleared his throat, dropping his hand, and turned back to face over the wall. 

“It’s a lovely night.”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes never leaving his face. “It is.” She paused for a moment, then settled herself beside him, her shoulder pressed against his. “You know, you’re idiotically brave, sometimes.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” she cleared her throat, “that you have a terrible habit of being positively eager to sacrifice yourself for others. I’ve watched you, you know. And when-“ she swallowed, trying to keep her tears at bay. “When Haven fell, and you were to take the others through the pass . . . I knew you would be the last to enter. Was I right?”

Cullen took a long, deep breath. “Yes.”

His response was barely above a whisper. The fact that she was asking him, that she’d thought about it, sent his mind reeling. A part of him wanted to ask her why she’d bothered to think about it, what difference it made to her, but the smarter part of him kept his mouth shut.

“Don’t.” Her hands were resting on the wall, balled into fists. “Don’t do that again. I nee- The Inquisition needs its Commander kept safe.” 

She turned to him, resting a hand on his arm.

“We would be lost without you, Cullen.”

Her voice was so soft, raw and tender with emotion. No one had spoken to him in that way before. He’d always assumed that it was his duty, his job to sacrifice himself for others. It was what he’d been taught as a Templar, the noblest death, the ultimate end to a life of service. Now, more than ever before, he wanted to live. For the first time, he felt he had a reason to.

He turned towards her, gently stroking the side of her face.

“And what of you? You, the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor? You threw yourself into danger, at Corypheus himself. You brought a mountain down on top of you, Aelyth. I thought you had died.”

“I sometimes feel as if I should have. More than sometimes.”

“No.” His voice was firm, but gentle. “I would-“ his words caught in his throat, softening. “I would see a thousand lives lost before I would accept that. I cannot accept that.”

The glow of sunrise crept over the horizon, casting a golden light across their faces. As Cullen looked at her, a bright warmth spread throughout his chest. She was beautiful, truly. The Maker himself must have sent her, because nothing as perfect as she was to him could exist without His direct hand. If only he could love her, if she would let him. If only he could be worthy of receiving her love, in turn. 

Neither of them knew how long they stood there. It was only when the first bells of the day began ringing that Aelyth gasped, suddenly brought back to herself.

“Oh, Maker! I promised Josephine I would meet with her early this morning, to discuss some of the petitions that have been made recently, and there are so many judgments this morning, as well! Here I am, not even properly dressed-“

Cullen watched fondly as she hurried about, wild curls flying behind her as she disappeared through the doorway. His heart burned inside of his chest, a deep ache of longing settling inside him. She was . . . Maker, she was so much. So perfect. 

Not for the first time, he found himself realizing that she made him think of the future. Before, it had always been a sort of abstract concept, something he was aware of, but ultimately found a bit meaningless. The only future you thought of as a soldier was winning, or minimizing losses. Though Templars were allowed to marry and have families, under certain rules, it hadn’t been something that interested him, until now. Now he sometimes found himself daydreaming, wondering what it would be like to have that sort of life.

Not that it mattered, at the moment. If they didn’t stop Corypheus, there would be no world to have a family in.

“Inquisitor?”

The tone in Josephine’s voice told Aelyth that it wasn’t the first time she’d called her. She’d been lost in a foolish daydream, thinking of earlier that morning with Cullen. It was the closest either of them had come to admitting their feelings, and they’d still ended up only dancing around it. Really, she wasn’t sure what the problem was. After all, she knew, by now, that Cullen was interested in her, and that he at least suspected she felt the same. Why she couldn’t just open her mouth-

“Inquisitor!” Josephine’s voice was much firmer this time, demanding her attention instead of asking for it.

“My apologies, Lady Montilyet.”

“Honestly, Inquisitor, where has your head been all morning?”

“Lost, I’m afraid. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately.”

“Is there something troubling you? Perhaps I could help?”

Aelyth thought for a minute. “I don’t think you can help with the nightmares, but there has been something on my mind lately, and I could use a bit of advice. I’ll admit, though, it’s rather personal in nature. I wouldn’t want to find that it had left this room.”

Always one for gossip, Josephine leaned in, pushing her work to the side.

“I . . . believe I could be sure of that. If you think that I can help.”

“Now, I won’t name names, so don’t ask, and if you try to guess I won’t breathe another word to you about it, understood?” 

Josephine nodded enthusiastically. 

“Hypothetically, if a woman were to be interested in pursuing a man, how would she go about it?”

Though she looked taken aback, Josephine rallied quickly. “Well, usually it is preferable to allow the man to be the one pursuing. However, if you wish to . . . display your interest, there are a number of things you can do. Glances, often stolen from across a room. Smiles. Lingering touches.”

Aelyth huffed. “What do you do if you’ve tried those, and he hasn’t responded?”

“You are certain that he is interested?”

“Absolutely.”

“If this is the case, he is likely attempting to move slowly, perhaps in the interest of chivalry. If this is the case, I’m afraid there is very little you can do. The courtship of chivalry moves at the pace of a snail. To rush it would be to undo all of the romance. The nature of this courtship is longing. There can be no longing if there is no waiting. It would be like expecting the stars to shine in the daytime.”

“Well, what is the courted expected to do?”

“Aside from merely being patient, it is your position to, well, be romanced. Allow him the pleasure of approaching you, offering you assistance when you need it, complimenting you, or simply being in your presence. At some point, you may wish to offer him a token, something that will remind him of you when you are separated.”

“And what would a good token be?”

“It varies. Perhaps your handkerchief, or a piece of your jewelry. Even a lock of your hair would be good, though that is usually reserved for long distances or relationships that are quite serious.”

“Thank you, Josephine. This has been very educational.”

“It has been my pleasure, Inquisitor. Though I do wish you would tell me who it is you are attempting to seduce.” She mumbled that last part, making Aelyth laugh quietly.

So, Cullen was being chivalrous? Well, it fit, both his actions and his personality. She had to admit that it was frustrating to know that it was going to be a slow, drawn out process. The Dalish were a bit freer with their affections, but at least she knew what to expect now. Besides, it might be fun. Long, drawn out courtships meant plenty of time for teasing.


	8. Chapter 8

“Sweet Andraste, if these people don’t leave me alone, I’m going to run away and let Corypheus have them!”

Aelyth was hiding again, this time in the bushes near the stable. Last time, she’d gotten Sera to let her crawl into one of her chests. She’d thought the whole thing was hilarious, of course. Nobles and Chantry sisters chasing after her, and she’d rather be ‘cooped up in a smelly old box’, as Sera had put it. It was true, though. Aelyth had been raised outdoors, hunting and camping, bathing in streams. Well, the bathtubs were actually a nice luxury, but they tried to keep her indoors all the time now, planning, judging, negotiating, even answering blasted letters! Aside from her late night strolls, which were caused by nightmares, so not entirely enjoyable, she barely saw the sky for more than a few minutes.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice, and her face broke out in a wide grin. 

Cullen.

When the conversation he’d been having ended, and she heard the other party’s footsteps fade, she popped out of her hiding place. Though he jumped a bit, startled, he returned her grin.

“Hiding again?”

“Yes. Cullen, they’re trying to make me sit down and have tea with nobles. Nobles! I’d have to display proper manners and everything.”

“You’re starting to sound like Sera.”

“If I sounded like Sera, I’d be dropping earthworms down their trousers. Which I might actually consider if I get any more marriage proposals.”

Cullen stopped short, gaping at her. “Marriage proposals?”

She did her best not to smile. That had gotten him bristling, alright. She turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Horrible old men who only care about politics. They’ve never even met me! I won’t marry for politics. I’ll only marry for love, real, honest, I can’t live without you type love.”

She couldn’t help but notice Cullen’s sigh of relief at that, or the way he tried carefully to sound casual and nonchalant when he asked her the question on his mind.

“And what sort of man would it take to make you fall in love?”

She resisted the urge to describe him. “Well,” she tapped her chin as she thought, “to begin with, I don’t only like men. But, hypothetically speaking, it would have to be someone very kind, who thought of others easily. Someone who could be soft, gentle, and tender with me, but also who was quite strong. I’m not a small or weak woman, and I don’t want to always have to be the strong one. But they’d have to feel comfortable letting me be strong, too.”

She stopped, looking deeply into his eyes.

“But most of all, I want someone who loves me. Someone who can accept me for who I am, all of me, without trying to make me fit into some notion of who they think I should be. I’m full of things that should be contradictory, but they’re me, and the person I’m with should be able to appreciate that. So many other things can be worked with, but for me, love and acceptance are not negotiable. I give all of myself to whatever I’m a part of, and I expect nothing less from my partner.”

She smiled at Cullen in a way that made his heart pound hard in his chest, his knees feeling a little weak. Maker, did she know? Had she guessed at the way his chest tightened, each time he saw her, or the way she’d begun chasing through the precious few pleasant dreams he had? Sometimes, the way she looked at him, he was certain she knew, that she could see right through him and his desire to keep things proper between the two of them. Why she didn’t speak to him about it was a mystery to him, but he was glad. It would have been terribly embarrassing for him if he was so shy and worried that she ended up approaching first.

“Tell me of the things you like, Aelyth.” 

It had slipped out without thought, his voice quiet and gentle. But he wanted to know, to find out everything about her. Any details to pepper into his dreams and fantasies, to help him along the path to winning her heart.

She smiled again. “The smell of an evening fire and leather. Being outdoors, the way the wind rustles the trees, and the coolness of it across my face.” After a thoughtful pause, she continued. “The amber color of honey in sunshine, and the green of new growth. The softness of worn linen against my skin, fresh from a bath. And, I have to admit, I’m getting quite used to the comfort of the beds here.”

“And what foods do you like to eat?”

“Are you writing a book on me, Cullen?” She raised an eyebrow as she watched his face redden.

“No, I . . . I was just curious. Forgive me.”

“It’s alright, I’m only teasing.” She gave his arm a light pat. “I’ve never been overly fond of meat, actually. I eat it, of course, but only for nourishment. Actually, I prefer sweets. Cakes, cookies, chocolate! I’m childish, I suppose, but I’d skip the main course and go straight for dessert, if I could.”

“I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth myself. Worse when I was younger, of course. I used to get in trouble all the time for stealing desserts.” He laughed lightly, for a moment sounding much younger than he was. “I don’t think it’s childish.”

Josephine’s head suddenly came into view, her face a storm of anger as she rounded the corner. Aelyth stopped dead.

“Andraste preserve me, I’m caught!”

It was all Cullen could do to not burst out laughing, pulling his face into his best impression of seriousness. Before Aelyth could speak, he approached Josephine.

“Forgive me. I had urgent business to discuss with the Inquisitor.”

“Is that so?” Josephine’s jaw clenched. “And what was this ‘urgent matter’?”

“Menu options.” Aelyth poked her head out from behind Cullen, whose eyes grew momentarily wide.

“Uhm, yes. Menu options. See, some of the recruits have been . . . complaining. They would like to see a wider variety of foods offered.” 

As a Josephine raised an eyebrow, Cullen and Aelyth shared a glance. Clearly, she didn’t believe them, but she also wasn’t going to push the matter further. Instead, she turned on her heel, muttering Anitvan curses as she walked away. The second she was gone, both of them collapsed in laughter.

“Thank you, Commander.”

“Well, I’m not sure that lying for the Inquisitor was in the job description, but I’m happy to. I certainly understand the desire to get away from nobles.”

“Have you had to do that much?”

“Actually running from, no. But we were often required to be present during meetings and negotiations involving nobles, and it was not a duty that I relished.”

“I’ve never had to spend much time around nobles, until recently. Since they usually preferred the Dalish as slaves, we tended to avoid them. I wonder if I’d get as many marriage proposals if they knew I’d grown up with them.”

“Perhaps we should make an effort to get that information out.” Cullen muttered under his breath.

“What was that, Commander?”

Cullen’s face grew hot. “I only meant that, if you wish to avoid proposals, it might be a way to stave some of them off.” The stutter in his voice gave him away, but Aelyth ignored it, for the moment.

“Yes. That might help.” She turned to him, smiling. “Careful, Commander, or I might think you wish to marry me, instead.”

She gave him a wink as she walked away, enjoying the sight of his mouth hanging open and his face red. He really was too easy. 

Evening fell, finding her in the tavern with Bull and Dorian. Unlike the slow approach that Cullen seemed intent on, the two of them had jumped in headfirst. It made her just a bit jealous, since they’d met months after she and Cullen, but she tried not to dwell on it. They didn’t make it easy, all but outright fondling each other in front of her.

“Honestly, if the two of you are going to be like that, I’m leaving. I didn’t come here to watch the two of you go at it.”

“Shame, boss. Dorian puts on quite a show.” He laughed heartily as Dorian wedged himself out of Bull’s grasp.

“So how are things going between you and a certain strapping ex-templar?”

Aelyth frowned at Bull. “Must you spread things around?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, nearly all of Skyhold knows the two of you are positively smitten. I don’t understand why you won’t just go for it.”

“Josephine suggested that he’s trying to be chivalrous, and I’m trying to give him the opportunity to do things at his own pace. Besides, Dorian, not everyone jumps into bed first, then works out their feelings.”

“Though from the looks I’ve seen you giving him, you wouldn’t mind giving it a try.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I say hang chivalry. Just strip naked and wait for him in his bed. I’m certain he wouldn’t decline.”

Aelyth laughed, rolling her eyes. “That may be true, but I’m trying to have patience and do things his way.”

“Meanwhile he keeps torturing himself, thinking he’s not good enough for you.”

“Boss, I’m all for giving a guy a chance to make the first move, but, damn. Cullen’s being slow. If you didn’t already have the hots for him, he’d have missed out, for sure.”

She snorted. “Sure. And who exactly would be interested, besides these horrible nobles?”

“Damn, boss, you’re as bad as he is. You’ve got a hell of a figure, and a great face. If I weren’t polite enough to stay out of his way, I’d have snapped you up before we even left Haven.”

Dorian sprayed his drink across the table. “My word.”

“Thanks, Bull. I’m not sure if I should be disappointed or pleased. He did bristle quite a bit when he heard I was getting proposals. Maybe if he had some competition, he’d pick up the pace a bit. Not that I’m asking, of course. I don’t want Dorian murdering me in my sleep.”

“I wouldn’t bother to wait for you to fall asleep, my dear.”

She chuckled, finishing her drink and heading back to her quarters, her thoughts focused on the conversation they’d had at the tavern. She knew she needed to be patient. Her whole life, she had a habit of rushing into things, and she’d missed out on some of the joys along the way in her focus on the end. But how many months had this been going on now? They’d come close to confessing several times, especially just after Haven, but now they seemed to be just going through the same things over and over. She was incredibly frustrated, emotionally and physically, and she just wanted this game to be over. 

She’d been trying to assure Cullen that she believed him to be a good man, a man who was worth being loved by her, but he seemed determined to believe otherwise. If she were to just up and tell him she was interested, she was afraid he’d refuse her on matters of principal. Were all Templars (and ex-Templars, she supposed) so ridiculously honorable? 

As she slipped into bed that night, she kept picturing his face, all the times he had smiled at her, or looked at her with something like adoration. Maker, what she wouldn’t give to have him beside her. The ache of loneliness was in her bones, and thoughts of him were kindling a fire within her.

Little did she know that a certain Commander was laying in his bed thinking similar thoughts. Since he’d had that dream of her, the one that had left him lying in a mess of his own making, he couldn’t help but hope each night that it would return, or at least one similar. He had such a need for her, in the night especially, a burning ache that twisted inside him.

“Sweet Maker, to see that skin of hers,” he whispered to the cold night air. “To taste her lips, to feel her heat against me . . . .”

Without intending to, he’d slipped his hand between his legs, fingers running along the length of his rapidly hardening cock. A flush of shame washed over him, that he was doing this, touching himself, and to thoughts of the Inquisitor, at that. Soon enough, those thoughts were swallowed by the heat of pleasure crawling up his chest.

The warmth between Aelyth’s legs grew as she thought about all of the things she wished Cullen would do to her, wetness creeping down her thighs. Slowly, she slipped a single finger in between her folds, barely brushing across that sweet, sensitive spot near the top. A soft gasp escaped her as she bit her lip, and pulled her finger back upwards, circling. The height of her arousal had her incredibly sensitive, each gentle movement drawing a soft moan.

Cullen slowly rubbed his thumb across the head of his cock, spreading the wetness there, then down the length of his shaft. He throbbed with need, a primal part of him demanding he thrust hard into his fist, but he pushed it down with a long, steady breath. If he was going to do this, he wasn’t going to rush, he was going to draw every ounce of pleasure from it that he could. As he shifted his hand upwards, he groaned quietly. In his head, Aelyth was with him, her hand wrapped around him instead of his own, her breasts swaying gently with the movements of her hand.

If he were here, it would be Cullen’s finger against her, she thought. Or better yet, his tongue. Long, soft strokes against her, before gently pressing it against her opening, his hands wrapped around her hips. Her legs would be thrown over his shoulders, carelessly, her hands tangled in his hair to guide him to just the right spot . . . there! She moaned, louder now, as she spread her legs wide to use two fingers to rub against herself.

His fist was fully wrapped around his cock now, hips pumping in a steady rhythm while he pictured her naked before him. With her legs spread wide, she’d work her hands along his length, and he’d get to admire how wet she was, how pink and swollen with desire. For him. Yes, and only for him, this show, this pleasure of her touch.

Aelyth’s head was thrown back, her body awash in the pleasure of her fantasy. While one hand moved furiously between her legs, she brought the other up to cup her breast, squeezing it and teasing the nipple. Cullen’s tongue could do that too, taste the salt of her skin before returning to the nectar between her legs. 

Both of them came with a sharp cry, almost simultaneously. Back arched, heart racing as the heat pulsed hard between their legs, drowning them in pleasure unlike any they’d known before. As they collapsed onto their respective beds, each of them looked longingly towards the empty side, wishing that it was filled with the other.


	9. Chapter 9

Cullen stood at his desk, hunched and holding it for dear life. The dizziness was back, worse than it had ever been before, making the whole room spin. He felt as if he’d pass out at any moment, and his head hurt as if an axe had been put through his skull, a blinding white pain that seared behind his eyes. Not for the first time, he questioned his decision. He’d wanted a clean break from his life as a Templar, and the Inquisition had provided that, but the choice to discontinue lyrium use had been his own. He felt it tied him too much to a past he didn’t want to remember.

When the knock came, it sent a sharp pain through his body, making him cry out. The door opened quickly, and he looked up to see Aelyth just as the edges of his vision darkened. He felt himself stumble, and the next thing he knew her arms were beneath his shoulders, helping him to his chair.

“Cullen, are you alright? You look dreadful.”

He tried to smile, knowing it came out weak and unconvincing. He should have told her earlier, before it got to this point. That she had to find out this way, seeing him so weak and helpless, was far from what he had wanted. 

He panted, trying to catch his breath. “Inquisitor, there’s something I must tell you.” He swallowed, or at least tried to. His mouth felt dry. “I . . . the Templars, I told you of how they take lyrium, and how it gives them their powers?”

She nodded, her face still a mask of concern. He felt sweat rolling down his back, cold and clammy, and dampening the hair at his temples. Maker knew what he must look like. He’d be surprised if she let him continue working.

“I . . . no longer take it.”

Her lips formed a tight line. “How long?”

“Months, now. Since I joined the Inquisition.”

“And the side effects?”

“Headaches. Weakness, and dizziness. I also have nightmares. More than before, at any rate, and getting worse.”

“And if you continue?”

“There’s no way to be certain. I’ve asked Cassandra to keep an eye on me, she knows what to watch for. If I can no longer perform . . . .” He didn’t want to continue the sentence. “You must understand, what I went through . . . I could not have anything to do with that life anymore. I would rather die-“

Her head snapped up, eyes wide and fearful. “This could kill you?”

“It hasn’t yet.”

He looked down to see her placing her hand gently over his clenched fist,and felt himself relax slightly.

“You’re not well right now.”

He nodded, weakly. “I’ll be alright. If I just push forward . . . .”

“No.” Her voice was firm, and brooked no disagreement. “I will not allow you to run yourself into the ground over this. You will take time off, and you will rest until you feel better. Has your roof still not been fixed?”

“Inquisitor, there’s no need. Maker, if I wasn’t so weak-“

“You’re not weak, Cullen. What you’re doing, it’s incredibly brave. I don’t know of many who would be willing to face what you are right now.” Her voice was gentle and kind, like a warm embrace. “Cullen, you’re probably the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

She cupped his face gently, letting her fingers trace the curve of his ear. Something about her touch soothed him, making his breathing easier, the pain in his head not quite as intense.

“Now, your roof. Is it fixed?”

“No. I ordered the men to work on the more public areas first.”

“And yet my chambers are in perfect condition . . . .” She raised an eyebrow at him, then called in two of the guards.

“Please escort Commander Cullen to my chambers. He is ill, and will be taking the rest of the day to recover, and perhaps tomorrow as well.”

Cullen looked at her as if she’d just suggested he run nude through an Orlesian banquet.

“And I’d like the both of you to stand guard beside the bed, where he will lay still and rest until such time as I arrive to take care of him. And that is a direct order, Commander.”

She watched with a smile as he was lead away, clearly wanting to object but not daring. There were a few more things she needed to take care of, such as informing Cassandra and Leliana that he would be off for a bit, and getting the Bull and Blackwall to take over the afternoon training sessions. Once those were taken care of, she left word with Josephine that she was not to be disturbed for the rest of the day, except in an emergency, and went to tend to her dear Commander.

He lay awkwardly on her bed, still in his armor, as the two she’d instructed to watch him stood over him, looking uncomfortable. She dismissed them, waiting until they’d left the room before returning to Cullen. She stood at the foot of the bed, her hands on her hips, and stared down at him. He couldn’t get over the feeling that he’d been a naughty child and was about to get scolded. It turned out that he wasn’t far off.

“Do you always sleep in your armor, Commander?”

“No, but I felt, under the circumstances, that it was more proper if-“

She held up a hand, stopping him. “No. You need rest, and you won’t get it if you’re uncomfortable. If you don’t remove that armor, I will do it myself.”

The thought of her undressing him, in her bedroom, on her bed, was enough to get him to his feet to start the slow process of armor removal. In the end, she did have to help him somewhat, as his hands were shaking too badly to undo some of the finer fastenings. She’d gotten them all easily, placing the last of his armor on her desk, then returning to him and grasping the bottom of his tunic. His hand quickly caught hers.

“No!” She jumped back, slightly startled. “What I mean is, I’d feel more comfortable if I left that on. I don’t want to be too exposed, after all.”

She stood back, apologizing quietly, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed. It was ridiculous that just the thought of her removing his tunic made his skin feel hot, but it did. 

At her direction, he sat on the edge of the bed, and she settled herself with her back resting against the headboard, her legs crossed. After putting a pillow in her lap, she looked up at him expectantly, then patted the pillow.

“I’m sorry?”

She rolled her eyes. “Head. Pillow. Now.”

Uneasy, he did as he was told, and felt her cool hands at his temples. She rubbed gently, making small circles as he closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he felt her hands slip beneath his neck, cradling it and gently   
stroking upwards. Soon, the aching in his head began to subside. He began drifting into a lazy, relaxed sleep as she massaged, her fingers working against points on his face that sent him deeper and deeper into relaxation. He couldn’t believe he felt this at ease, and in her room, her bed, and her lap.

When he woke, she was seated beside him, stroking his forehead.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you. Though I’m still feeling a bit off. I can’t believe I slept so easily, and without nightmares.”

She gave him a small smile. “I’m going to go check on things, I’ll probably be back in an hour or so. I’m sending up someone to make you a hot bath, with some salts I use when I get headaches. I know this is more than a headache, but I thought it might help. Use the privacy screen, in case I come back early.”

She left without letting him say anything, probably because she knew he’d object in some way. Soon, two women arrived with buckets of water and a pleasant smelling salt, and he watched as they prepared his bath. Once they’d left, he slipped behind the privacy screens they’d put in place and undressed. Carefully, he stepped into the steaming water, relaxing against the back of the basin. With a gentle smile, he realized that the water smelled like Aelyth usually did, a lovely thought. 

The water was still quite warm when he heard the footsteps that announced Aelyth’s return, and soon saw her figure silhouetted through the screens. She crossed to her dresser, pulling out some clothes, then came to stand just on the other side of the screen.

“How is our Commander doing?” He watched through the screen as she pulled her short tunic over her head, replacing it with one that fell nearly to her ankles.

“Much better, thank you. Though I’m not sure exactly why you’ve put so much effort into fussing over me.”

She peeked around the edge of the screen. “I’d say it’s rather important that the leader of the Inquisition’s forces be at his best.”

Cullen’s breath hitched as she reached beneath her tunic, tugging down her leather leggings. Suddenly, he was very glad that the salts had made the water murky, or she might have seen exactly how the sight affected him.

“Besides, I enjoy helping others. And I’ve missed using touch in that way. I used to be sort of the unofficial healer’s assistant. No magic, so I couldn’t do that, but headaches, tension, or muscle aches I could. Had a talent for it as long as I can remember.”

“Perhaps next time I’m sore from training I should visit you.” 

She could hear the smile in his voice. “You don’t have to wait until you have a problem, you know. I could help you right now. As wound up as you usually are, I have no doubt you could use it. The tension in your muscles is probably unbelievable.”

There was something in her voice, a teasing tone, that dared him to agree.

“Alright. Do you mind if I stay in the bath?” 

He could practically hear the excitement in her voice as she agreed to it. The next thing he knew, she was pulling up a stool behind him, her sleeves rolled up. He sat up slightly, giving her access to his shoulders. She put her hands in the water for a few minutes, warming them, then placed them on his shoulders.

Maker, her touch felt wonderful. The warmth of her hands on his skin, her gentle squeezing of his shoulders, it all took him to a level of relaxation he didn’t think was possible. Rhythmically, she stroked his muscles while he occasionally hummed appreciatively, the soft splashing of the water pulling him into a state of bliss. 

“I could spend every night of my life like this.”

A smile played across her lips as she felt him tense, realizing what he’d said. 

“You flatter me, Cullen. But you’re welcome. Any time.”

There was a subtle emphasis on the last two words that sent heat licking through his veins. The fact that he was in her chambers alone with her, naked, suddenly became very, very obvious. When he’d woke feeling the symptoms of withdrawal, he certainly hadn’t expected the day to end like this. Not that he minded. Spending time with Aelyth was always a welcome distraction, and her attentions had left him feeling a bit less concerned about his feelings for her. 

After his bath, Aelyth had some food brought up for him, and they spent the evening talking pleasantly. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d spent this much time together, without the weight of war on their shoulders. Possibly they never had. Evening came regrettably soon, startling Cullen as he noticed.

“I suppose I should get to my quarters.”

“Nonsense. Stay here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Inquisitor . . . ,” he stopped himself. “Aelyth. I am not going to kick you out of your own bed.”

“Well, I’m not sending you back to that roofless bedroom while you’re still recovering, and I’d never expect a guest to sleep on the couch. So it’s either you let me take the couch, or I crawl into bed beside you, Commander.”

She raised an eyebrow, and once again he felt that unspoken dare. This time, however, he wasn’t quite bold enough to rise to the challenge. He conceded the sofa to her, making sure she had the lion’s share of pillows and blankets. She wished him a quiet goodnight, then settled down. He watched her for some time as she drifted into sleep, an ache in his heart. A part of him wished he’d been a bit bolder, accepting her company in the bed. Maker knows, he wanted it, the same way he’d known in his childhood that he wanted to be a Templar. 

It just didn’t seem quite proper. The first time they shared a bed, he wanted it to be for a good reason, intentionally born of affection, not something of a dare, just because he happened to be there. He wanted there to be no doubt that they cared for one another. Admittedly, he was a great deal more certain of her affection for him than he had been before, but there was a part of him that still doubted, that wondered if it was really him that she wanted.

As he drifted to sleep, he carefully considered all that had happened between them since their first meeting. He’d known some time ago that he’d fallen utterly in love with her. She was a bright light in the darkness of his world, and her treatment of him today had proven that more than ever. But he’d resisted believing that she could ever feel the same wholeheartedly. Now, though, he wasn’t quite as sure. Each time he’d doubted himself in her presence, she’d risen to meet him, assuring him that she believed he was worth much more than he gave himself credit for. She’d let him provide the same comfort to her that she gave him, trusting in his words when he said she was more than suitable for any task laid before her. And now, well, now he thought that maybe it hadn’t been his imagination all of those times he’d believed she was flirting with him. She obviously had no problem touching him, or seeing him vulnerable, which had always been his worst fear. She’d seen him on his worst day of withdrawal so far, and not only had she accepted it, she’d helped him.

Andraste preserve him, she might actually feel the same. The thought thrilled him, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He promised himself that soon, he would find the courage to find out for certain.


	10. Chapter 10

Cullen woke to the Inquisitor straddled across his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. He was drenched in sweat, his clothing thoroughly soaked, and his throat felt raw, as if he’d been screaming. As he focused on Aelyth’s face, he saw the deep lines of concern there, and watched her mouth moving at first without realizing she was talking. Then his hearing kicked in, and he realized she was calling his name.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, then shook his head.

“It’s alright. I’m awake now.”

She looked at him cautiously before slowly releasing her grip on his arms. Though she still sat astride his hips, she’d leaned back, watching him carefully as he rubbed his eyes, ready to pin him again if she needed. As he made no move that proved otherwise, her face softened.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You were screaming.”

He sighed. “Yes. I regularly have nightmares of this sort, though it’s worse without lyrium. It’s one reason I’ve made sure I keep my room distant from others.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but there was a sudden clattering up the steps of her chambers. Cullen sat bolt upright, nearly knocking Aelyth off of him, but quickly threw his arms out to catch her, resulting in his hands on her waist and hers resting on his shoulders. Unfortunately, that was the exact moment that a group of five guards threw open the door, swords at the ready. Cullen watched as their eyes went from his face, to Aelyth’s, and then the positions of their hands. As their faces reddened, he realized what they were thinking and quietly groaned, resting his head against Aelyth’s chin, then realized that didn’t help matters. The front guard cleared his throat roughly as the others coughed, trying to hide their laughter and failing spectacularly.

“My apologies Inquisitor, Commander. We, uh, we heard screaming, and we thought someone was attacking. We . . . didn’t . . . we didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

The tittering laughter was louder now, as the head guard turned and rushed them all out. As the door closed behind them, the two of them caught a snippet out of one of the guards’ mouths.

“Well, who’d have thought it, eh? The Inquisitor and the Commander . . . .”

Aelyth moved her hands to cup the back of Cullen’s head.

“Well, Cullen, it appears we’re now lovers. I hope you don’t mind.”

He met her laughter with his own. “It’s not how I’d have preferred to find out . . . what a shame I have no memory of what we got up to.”

“Nor do I, for that matter.” She extricated herself from his lap, leaving him missing her warmth. “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. Everyone important knows why you were really here.”

“I doubt that will stop the gossip, though. I’m so sorry.”

“I can think of worse rumors. How are you feeling today?”

“Aside from the embarrassment, fantastic. Your touch worked wonders.”

“Andraste,” she said, turning to him before reaching for her clothes, “don’t let anyone else hear you say that, it’ll only make more gossip.”

He watched as she dressed behind the screen, utterly aware of how much he wished, for once, that the gossip about him was true. After the previous day, he felt much more confident about the possibility, and almost ready to let her know how he felt. Almost.

After she’d dressed, she helped him carry his armor back to his room, then left him to dress for the day. She was just about to head to see Dagna when Leliana popped out of nowhere, cornering her.

“I’ve just heard the most interesting news about you and our dear Commander Cullen.” 

There was a wicked grin on her face as she stared at Aelyth. She knew perfectly well why he’d spent the night in her rooms, but that wouldn’t stop her from teasing them mercilessly.

“Please, Leliana, don’t encourage them. And for the sake of Andraste, don’t mention it to Cullen! He’s embarrassed enough around me as it is.”

“Perhaps that’s because he wishes there were truth to these rumors? I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Aelyth sighed, pulling Leliana to a dark, private corner. “Please, don’t make a big deal of this. I know you enjoy teasing him, but I’ve only just gotten him comfortable enough to not blush every time we’re in the same room. Let him have this boost of confidence. Please.”

She nodded, but with a sly smile on her face that told Aelyth this was far from over.

It definitely wasn’t. She’d barely opened the door to Josephine’s office when the ambassador began screeching at her. For the first few minutes, her words were so fast and her accent so thick, Aelyth had no idea what she was saying. Finally, a few words began to sink in.

“I cannot believe you, Inquisitor! Romance with your Commander, right beneath my nose, and you don’t even tell me! You asked for my advice! If I had known that it was Commander Cullen that you were speaking of, I could have been much more helpful in my words, much more forthcoming. As it is, I had to find out from the cook!”

“Josephine!” She stopped, staring angrily at Aelyth. “The Commander and I are not together. You know he was in my quarters last night because he was feeling ill, and I helped him. Honestly. There was a misunderstanding this morning when guards burst in while I was waking him from a nightmare, that’s all.”

“You are certain?”

Aelyth stared at her flatly. “Josephine. If the Commander and I get together, I promise you’ll be the first person I tell.”

That seemed to satisfy her, though Aelyth could tell she was dying to ask a question. She motioned with her hand to encourage her. After a moment of hesitation, she raised her eyebrows, leaning toward Aelyth conspiratorially.

“Was it the Commander you asked me about?”

Aelyth rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Fine. Yes.”

“You are certain that nothing occurred during the night?”

“Yes, Josephine.”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You know, I could probably manage to arrange for some private meetings to take place. Or perhaps a quiet trip to a romantic location?”

“Thank you, Josephine, but no. I’d like to let this happen on its own.”

“With Commander Cullen, you may be waiting quite a while . . . the man’s sense of honor is almost as high as his self esteem is low.”

By lunchtime, the news was all over Skyhold. Though no one would speak to either of them directly, the whispers behind them were loud enough to give them an idea of the direction. Maids looked at the pair longingly as they discussed recent training. Recruits tittered and pointed, whispering behind their hands as she strode by, one giving Cullen an approving nod. An Orlesian couple in the main hall gave Cullen a disapproving glare as he made his way to the war room, and it was all Aelyth could do to stop herself from pulling him into a heated kiss in front of them out of spite. Even Varric, who knew damn well that nothing was going on, had teased Cullen while he was on his way to bring Aelyth the newest reports.

“Way to go, Curly. I never knew you had it in you.”

Cullen spun on his heel, stalking towards him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, you know. You and the Inquisitor. It’s the talk of Skyhold!”

Cullen gritted his teeth. “I assure you, my relationship with the Inquisitor is purely professional.” He stepped closer, looking over Varric. “Even if it were not, I hardly think it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, come on Curly. We’ve all seen the way you look at her. Those sad puppy dog eyes, the way you jump to attention anytime she enters the room . . . just make it official and get it over with.”

“I do not jump when she comes in!”

The door behind him flew open, and Aelyth entered. “Cullen, can I speak to you? Privately?”

In spite of himself, Cullen found himself at full attention. “Yes, Inquisitor. Of course.”

He looked over his shoulder at Varric, giving him his best ‘I told you so’ look, then followed Aelyth into her rooms. When they’d reached the top of the stairs, she turned to him, look of deep distress on her face.

“Maker, Cullen, I’m so sorry.”

He gave her a slightly confused look.

“They’re talking all over Skyhold. I’ve had to assure even Leliana and Josephine that we haven’t suddenly become a couple. Bull and Dorian both congratulated me this morning on my ‘catch’, and the number of guards and maids I’ve had to give extremely firm looks to goes beyond counting. I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice?”

“Well, no, actually. Varric cornered me just now.”

“I shouldn’t have insisted you stay, even to keep you safe. I was just worried, I wanted to make sure that you would be alright.”

“And I appreciate your concern.” He stepped towards her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Honestly. I wouldn’t trade last night for anything.”

“Really? Even though they think you’ve taken me to bed?”

“I can think of much worse rumors. I’m only sorry-“

He stopped, clamping his mouth shut as he blushed. He’d nearly said he was only sorry that it wasn’t true. That sort of accidental honesty wasn’t exactly the way he’d hoped to let her know he cared about her. 

He swallowed thickly. “I’m only sorry you’ve been incorrectly tied to me. I’m sure there are much more suitable men for you to be tied to. Men who are far more worthy.”

“Don’t say that, Cullen. You’re very worthy.”

His hand was still cupped against the side of her face, his fingertips brushing the edge of her ear. She leaned into his touch, placing her hand over his. As her eyes met his, he felt the pounding of his heart against his ribs. Something inside of him urged him forward, telling him it was now or never, and he leaned towards her face, tilting his head slightly.

She raised herself on her toes, gripping his arms for balance. The whirlwind of thoughts in her head silenced as his hand found her waist and he stepped forward. She could feel the warm tickling of his breath against her skin, and smell the steel tang of his armor mixed with the salt of his sweat. His mouth was nearly on hers now, and anticipation had her hearth thrumming.

“Hey, boss?”

Cullen jumped away from her as if he’d been stung, a crimson blush on his cheeks. As The Iron Bull came into view, he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck, then quickly excused himself. He was clearly mortified, and Aelyth was more than ready to kill Bull. Who knows when he’d find the courage to do that again?

Bull watched Cullen leave, then turned to Aelyth with a smile on his face, one that left instantly when he saw the way she was glaring at him. If looks could kill, he’d have been dead right now. He might be reckless sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid.

“I interrupt something, boss?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” 

Her voice was cold, and, slowly, the pieces began to fall into place for him. The blush on Cullen’s cheeks, the way Aelyth had been breathing so rapidly? Cullen’s quick exit, avoiding eye contact?

Oh shit.

“He finally make a move then?” Bull was trying to stay light and casual. He’d seen Aelyth when she was pissed, and it wasn’t pretty.

“He was about to, until SOMEONE barged in!”

“Damn, boss. Sorry.”

She smiled a horribly gruesome grin that made his blood run cold. “Funny, how you think sorry will cover it. Bull, you KNOW how long I’ve been waiting, trying to be patient. Now I’ll be lucky if he even agrees to be in the same room with me for the next six months.” She threw herself on the sofa, pouting. 

“Sorry, boss. Really. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise.”

Cullen wandered away from the Inquisitor’s chambers, feeling slightly dazed. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or glad that Bull had interrupted them, but that didn’t really matter. What mattered was that it had happened, and now he had to find a way to move forward. 

On one hand, he could pretend it never happened. Nothing had actually taken place, after all, so it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to simply continue being friends, letting his heart ache with how much he cared for her. Maybe, one day, they’d find themselves alone again, and the circumstances could repeat, this time uninterrupted. 

But that wasn’t what he wanted, not really. Having been so close to Aelyth, her lips very nearly touching his, her hands against his arms- he couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t.

She had told him he was worthy.

More than worthy, actually, but the point was that he had worried that he wasn’t good enough for her, and she had told him he was. Not only that, but when he had moved forward, when he had been about to kiss her, she had responded in kind, placed her hands on his arms and leaned to meet him! There was nothing that could calm the proud beast she’d awakened in him short of being by her side. He would make her his, and he would spend the rest of eternity showing her exactly what she meant to him.


	11. Chapter 11

“Curly’s never gonna make a move. Not gonna happen. He’s far too stuffed up his own sense of honor, busy thinking he’ll never be a good enough man.”

“Come now, Varric. He’s a perfectly healthy young man, she’s a beautiful woman . . . he’d have to be mad!”

“Dorian, have you ever actually met Cullen? He practically bleeds chivalry. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s never bedded a woman in his life.”

“I hardly think that’s fair.”

“Listen, I don’t care if he’s slept with someone or not, the guy’s gotta make a move sometime.”

“And who is it that has to make a move?” Aelyth strode up to where the three men had gathered in the courtyard. “Interfering again, Bull?”

“Not a chance, boss.”

“But you were talking about Cullen, weren’t you?” They looked towards the ground, at least having the decency to feel bad. Maybe. “I’ve told you all, this is none of your business! Whoever I’m interested in, whoever Cullen’s interested in, that’s our private life, emphasis on PRIVATE.”

She gave each of them a stern look in turn, then Varric stepped up.

“Look, we know it’s none of our business. It’s just, well . . . .”

“By the breath of Blessed Andraste, we’re tired of watching the two of you tiptoe around your attraction to one another!” Dorian sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s obvious the two of you are completely taken with each other. I see it, Bull sees it, and Varric . . . you two seem to be the only people who don’t know!”

“It’s not that simple, Dorian.” Aelyth said softly.

“We know. Curly’s got his ‘I was there in the Circle, I’m not a good man’ thing going on. And you’re the leader of the Inquisition. But, Andraste, don’t the two of you deserve happiness?”

Aelyth turned, and they watched her walk away without saying a word. The silence drew on, heavy and oppressive.

“I’ve got coin that says Corypheus will be defeated before those two finally get together.”

“You’re on, Varric,” said Bull. “But I say one of them breaks before the next time we have to deal with some of Corypheus’ bullshit.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Both of you two are being incredibly childish.” For a moment, the others looked slightly guilty. “Obviously it’s going to take another near death experience for one of them to finally confess.”

They all grinned. This was getting interesting.

Aelyth knocked on the door of Cullen’s office quietly, in case he was having more problems with withdrawal. This day, however, he looked to be in a bright mood, with an easy smile on his lips. The sight had Aelyth’s heart fluttering in her chest.

“Are we still on for lunch?”

“Yes, of course.” His smile broadened. “Give me just a moment.”

When he’d finished his work, the two of them headed to the abandoned section of the battlements where he’d found her awake that night. This time, however, there was a small basket filled with fruits, bread, and cheeses. They sat down, one on each side of the basket, and began eating. It was slow and leisurely, more so than either of them felt it really should have been, considering their duties. But it was nice and quiet, and they were getting to spend time together.

“I’m glad you suggested this.” Cullen smiled over the basket at Aelyth.

“Well, after the incident in my room, I thought it would be better if any time we spent together was out of sight. People are still talking about it, you know.”

“Don’t remind me!” Cullen laughed. Soon she was laughing along, and he found himself mesmerized by the sight. The way her lips curled at the sides of her mouth, the way her eyes closed slightly, wrinkling at the corners. Maker, she was beautiful. Every time he thought there was nothing that could possibly make him fall deeper in love with her, she proved him wrong.

“We should spend more time alone together.”

Her words were simple, quiet, but sincere, and they made Cullen’s heart feel like it was doing cartwheels in his chest. He’d been thinking it, but she had said it. She wanted to spend more time with him. She had said that!

“I would like that,” he replied, sounding far shyer than he meant to. But she had said that!

Over the course of the next few weeks, the two of them found as many ways to spend time together as possible. There were more lunches, of course, but they also played chess together, spoke about improvements that could be made to the castle, and, occasionally, met for late night walks. It was these that Cullen liked best. Both of them were out of their armor, shedding everything (or almost everything- the mark remained, of course) that identified her as the Inquisitor and him as her Commander. She would leave her hair loose sometimes, braiding it while they talked, and he got to watch the way her fingers nimbly twisted the hair together. And when they left to go to bed, she always, always placed a gentle kiss goodnight against his cheek. Last time, he’d even been brave enough to take her hand in his, lifting it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. Even in the dimness of the night, he’d been able to make out the flush of her cheeks, and it had him soaring for hours, completely unable to sleep.

Meanwhile, the talk among the recruits, soldiers, and household workers died down, but talk among the inner circle increased. Sera had gotten in on the bet, and was doing everything she could to find a way to lock the two away somewhere. Cole kept spouting off their thoughts about each other to anyone who asked, Leliana had spies watching them, and Josephine treated the entire thing like entertainment. Only Vivienne refused to take part, but after watching them one afternoon conceded that ‘the Inquisitor could do far worse than Commander Cullen’, which was probably as close to encouragement as she’d get.

Both Cullen and Aelyth were mostly oblivious to these developments, focused instead on each other. To her absolute delight, Cullen had moved on to actually trying to woo her. He offered her his arm when they walked together. He took her hand to help her up or over things, even if she didn’t need it, and occasionally kissed it afterwards. Most of all, he’d stopped trying to hide the admiration that was in his eyes whenever he looked at her. 

It was beyond beautiful, the look in his eyes. She’d never considered herself attractive, possibly a side effect of growing up a rather large human among the lithe and tiny Dalish. She was . . . sturdy. Broad of shoulder, wide hipped, and soft everywhere, even though she knew she was strong. But when Cullen looked at her, his eyes told her that he saw something very different. He liked her strength, her curves, and her softness. Once, when he’d come upon her practicing her archery, he’d told her that the muscles of her shoulders looked as if they’d been sculpted directly by the Maker’s hands. He’d blushed so brightly afterwards that she was sure he hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it had made her feel positively divine.

When they’d gotten word of the trouble in Emprise du Lion, both of them knew she had to go. There was strong suspicion that red lyrium was a part of it, too dangerous to let go. He’d bid her a polite goodbye in front of the others, having already told her privately to come back to him in one piece, and that he’d miss her, then watched as she, Bull, Varric, and Vivienne disappeared from sight. With a sigh, he turned, and found Cassandra leaning against the wall behind him.

“Missing her already?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “I never could hide anything from you.”

“No. You couldn’t.” She fell in step beside him as he walked back towards his chambers. “Tell me, why do you not let her know how you feel?”

“It’s . . . complicated. She’s the Inquisitor, and I am her subordinate-“

“A fact I think only you care about.”

“It isn’t only that. Everything is . . . we’re at war. Whether we like it or not. It’s hardly the time for romance.”

“Is it not?” Cassandra stopped, facing him. “We are at war. That means that each time you part from her, you cannot know if you will see her again. Each day is a gift from the Maker, and I do not think He would want to see you waste it, admiring from a distance but never taking the gift he has given to you.”

“I suppose I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Listen, Cullen, how did you feel after Haven, when we thought she had been lost? You were beside yourself with grief, ready to give up. I have never seen you so despondent. It is the same each time she leaves. I watch you walk around this castle like you are lost. This is how it has been since before Haven. If you care for her, you should tell her. Stop this dreadful moping and make the best of the time the two of you have been given.”

“Alright. Once she returns, I’ll talk to her.”

It was a fine thing to promise, and he did, in fact, intend to keep it. The problem was, he had no idea what to say. While Aelyth was away, he spent every moment that he wasn’t poring over paperwork trying to think of what to say. To say it was disastrous was being kind. He could find no words that he felt accurately expressed his feelings. He wanted her to know the way she made his heart race, sent his mind reeling. The dizziness he felt when she smiled at him. The way she made him feel anxious and calm all at once, like a hurricane inside, terrifying and thrilling all the same. He’d never felt like this before, and he never wanted it to end.

He spent hours in his bedroom, talking to himself. He’d come up with a speech he thought was good, then start practicing it. Halfway through, he’d realize it sounded, well, wrong. Then he’d give up and start all over again. It was maddening. How did you tell someone like her that you cared about them? It wasn’t that he feared rejection, not at this point. They’d spent enough time together, and he’d gotten enough encouragement from others, to be relatively certain she was interested in him, as well. 

It was just . . . she was The Inquisitor. Even without that lofty title, she’d been The Herald of Andraste, and when you took that away, there was still this amazing, caring, beautiful woman that, as far as he was concerned, was as close to a divine being as was possible. He wanted to tell her that, but he didn’t want her to feel he was putting her on some sort of pedestal, creating standards she’d never be able to live up to. He wanted . . . Andraste, he just wanted to be with her. To stand beside her, proudly, as she fought, to celebrate with her when she won, to hold her when she lost. And, on days where she felt the world was closing in and the weight of her obligations were too much, he wanted to be the one who could ease her heart, make her forget it all, if only for a little while.

He loved her, Maker forgive him, but he did, and he knew he never wanted another soul. She, in the end, might not feel the same way, but that was alright. If he had her only for a little while, it would still be the best part of his life. A moment beside her was worth a year of his life before, a single kiss better than all the victories he’d ever known. And he had no idea how to tell her.

She’d return from the Emprise du Lion soon. He’d gotten her letter (thrilled she’d written one specifically to him) yesterday, and she’d said that they’d be leaving in a day or two, once she was sure things were settled. Not everything they’d set out to do was accomplished, but there was vital information that had been gained, and they were looking a a larger picture than they’d previously believed. There were judgements that needed to be made, and punishments to hand out, and she wanted his help in those decisions. But most of all, she’d said that when she returned, they would find a way to get some time together, without fear of interruptions, and that she had something of a more personal nature that she wished to discuss with him. Then she had signed it, closing with ‘I miss you’.

She missed him. That alone made him all but certain that she returned his feelings. It should have made the prospect of telling her seem easier. Instead, thanks to his perfectionist tendencies and his overthinking, it made the task that much more daunting. He imagined her coming to him, giving him the perfect set up to confess everything . . . and he’d say precisely the wrong thing. His anxiety over it became worse as the days marched onward, bringing the inevitable day closer. Worry began to gnaw at him, and he could barely eat. His sleeping schedule became more erratic, rest almost never finding him. At least it kept the nightmares at bay.

By the time she returned, he was a wreck, with dark circles under his eyes and a sunken cast to his cheeks. It had gotten bad enough that the day before, Josephine and Cassandra had ordered him to his room to rest for the day after he’d nearly collapsed during training. He’d tried to resist, but they’d insisted, with Cassandra slyly telling him that Aelyth would be distressed to see him in this state. He knew it was true, so he tried to rest. Instead, he spent the day watching the clouds through the hole in the ceiling and wondering exactly where she was. If he didn’t get to confess soon, his lovesick heart was going to give out on him.


	12. Chapter 12

When the bells rang out announcing her return, Cullen couldn’t stop himself. He rushed out of his office, and was halfway down the steps before he realized that there was likely no reason to rush. There were always plenty of things that needed the Inquisitor’s attention when she returned from a long trip. Besides, if he was too eager, his feelings would be painfully obvious, and they’d endured enough talk after the lyrium incident. Instead, he forced himself to slow down, taking one step at a time, and making a casual stroll across the courtyard. If he’d thought about it, he could have at least brought a report with him, so he had a good excuse to whisk her away, but it was too late for that now.

The second he saw her in the garden, he felt his knees grow weak. All these long weeks, thinking of her, wondering where she was, how she was doing, and she was right in front of him. Her face was smudged with dirt, bruised slightly, and she was still in her traveling armor, but she was here. With him. Her eyes met his, and a broad smile spread across her face, reflecting the one he was certain he wore. As she was helped out of her armor, he began to cross the distance, his heart in his throat, knowing he would soon have his soul laid bare before her. 

Her horse was lead away, between them, and when he made his way to her, she was deep in conversation with Josephine. He waited, trying to be patient, but couldn’t help but bounce on the balls of his feet. Just as Josephine was walking away, Leliana came over.

“Inquisitor? There is an urgent matter we must discuss.”

She threw him a pained glance and mouthed an apology at him as Leliana lead her to the rookery, and he walked to the training yard. There was little to be done, but he made a show of going through some basics, mostly to waste time before heading inside. His heart wasn’t in it, however, and he quickly stopped, moving into the main hall to wait for her.

She exited the rookery with a stern face and Leliana hot on her heels. He gave her a questioning look, and was met with the request to join them in the war room. Anxious, he followed.

Once there, Leliana briefed them on a mage named Calpernia, apparently the head of Corypheus’ army of mages. There was only a little known of her, but she’d been dealing with a trader who was known to Leliana, and could likely be convinced to talk. Aelyth was to visit him as soon as she could, before Calpernia found out their plan. She agreed, and their meeting was adjourned. Cullen hung back, hoping that he could catch Aelyth, perhaps walk her to her quarters. Instead, he was intercepted by Josephine, who insisted she talk to the Inquisitor right away. Though Aelyth attempted to get out of it, noticing Cullen’s pleading stare, Josephine would not budge.

Cullen gave up. Once Josephine had her hooks in her, it was unlikely she’d get away any time soon, so he returned to his office. There were plenty of reports to read, but he couldn’t find it inside of himself to focus. Instead, he paced, thinking once again on what he could say. On three occasions, recruits or guards came to discuss something, and he found himself having to get them to repeat their words over, just to get an idea of what was going on. 

He couldn’t help it. Now that she was home, all of his thoughts were focused on Aelyth, and on taking the advice that Cassandra had given him. He believed wholeheartedly what she had said, that Aelyth was a gift to him from the Maker, and he didn’t want to waste any more time with insecurities or doubt. If this blessing was his to have, he wanted to show that he appreciated it.

When the door opened, Cullen didn’t notice at first. He was deep in conversation with a scout, but his mind was on her. At the sight of her face, the conversation was lost completely. She might have gestured for him to continue, but how could he, when she was so close?

His heart was beating so hard he was certain she could hear it as she approached him. It drowned out everything, even the words she spoke, until he shook his head to gain some clarity. Then she repeated herself.

“Could I talk to you? Privately?”

“Yes. Uhm . . . yes. Of course.”

He followed her to the abandoned area of the battlements. Their abandoned area, he thought fondly, and fell in step beside her. His excitement had him wanting to walk quickly, to get the moment over with, but he willed himself to slow, taking easy steps beside her. He tried making small talk, but found it falling flat, his nerves getting the better of him, and he rubbed the back of his neck. Already he could feel a hot blush creeping up.

“Uhm . . . there . . . there was some you wished to discuss?”

She paused, fingers twisting together, before she turned to him.

“Cullen, I-“ she swallowed. This was harder than she imagined. “I care for you.”

She looked into his eyes, searching for some indication she was on the right path, but he was stunned into silence. 

“I find myself thinking about you all the time, and wishing that, whatever I’m doing, I was with you instead. That all my time was spent like it is at night, when we’re together, and it’s just us, not the Inquisitor and the Commander, but just us, as we are on our own. And . . . .”

There was a long pause as Cullen tried to process what he was hearing. He’d spent so much time trying to carefully craft every word to confess his feelings, and here he was, beside her. She’d already told him how she felt, and it was easy, because all he had to do was say that he felt the same, yet he was still standing here, speechless, his mouth half open!

“I’ve often wondered what I should say in this sort of situation.”

He cursed himself internally. Sweet Andraste, he needed to get a grip!

“I . . . I didn’t know if it was possible. You’re the Inquisitor, and I’m . . . .”

Make help him, he was doing this entirely wrong. That was the last thing he wanted to say! Still, she smiled at him sweetly, and he felt himself melting before her. Oh, how weak she made him! She controlled him, utterly, completely.

“But I’m still here. Beside you.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “It seems impossible. Too much to ask. But . . . .”

He leaned towards her, lowering his head as she stood on her toes, ready to meet his mouth with hers. This was it, this was what he’d wanted for ages, and she was right here! Her hands pressed against his chest, his on her hip, pulling her closer. In moments he’d know her taste, he wouldn’t have to guess, he wouldn’t have to imagine it. Her lips would be against his, because she felt the same, and everything, everything would be different now.

“Commander?”

The wavering voice of a recruit broke the moment of his victory, shattering the image in a thousand pieces. How had he found him here, where no one came? Their safe haven, their piece of sanctity, and now it was ruined. He spun on his heel, growling in anger as he faced the recruit. The boy was fairly shaking in his shoes, he’d probably scared ten years off of him, but, Maker, he’d waited for this for so long, and now, to be interrupted, was more than he could tolerate.

Aelyth chuckled behind him, trying to hide it behind her hand. Yes, it had been awkward and inconvenient for them to be interrupted, and it was worse that someone had found their hideaway, but, Andraste, Cullen was going to give the boy a heart attack. It wasn’t THAT bad. Soon enough, the boy would be on his way, and they could, well, they could figure out what the next step would be.

She watched as the boy scurried down the steps, desperate to be away from the Commander. She was opening her mouth to speak, maybe tease Cullen a bit, and the next thing she knew his arms were wrapped around her waist and his mouth was pressed on hers, hot and wanting. It was dizzying, the way he kissed her, like he’d wanted to from the moment he met her, or like it was the last chance he’d ever get.

When they broke apart, she was half dazed with the intensity of it, the ghost of a smile across her lips. His arms were still wrapped around her as his honeyed amber eyes searched her face. Apparently, what he found was good enough, because he gave her a shy smile.

“That was . . . really nice.”

That didn’t even come close to covering it.

“I . . . Cullen . . . ,” Aelyth breathed in deeply, finding only one thing to say. 

“More.”

He smiled with a brightness she’d never seen before, eyes practically glowing with happiness. As he brought his mouth to hers again, all he could think was how perfect it was, how this had been the exact right way for it to happen, and that he would never, ever get tired of kissing her. Not the smell of her hair, or the taste of her lips, and especially not the way her body felt beneath his hands as he held her against him. This was paradise.

By the time they broke apart, evening was falling. Both of them wanted nothing more than to stay together, but they had already risked being the subject of more gossip. Whatever this was, wherever it was going, they wanted to have the chance to define it for themselves before others tried to define it for them. They had enough of others expectations weighing on them in every other part of their life. This was just for them.

Cullen took Aelyth’s hands between his, kissing her fingertips reverently. Between that, and the way he was looking at her, she was half tempted to invite him to bed. But that was her again, rushing things when she ought to be taking her time. So instead, she slipped one of her hands out, cupping the side of his face. The scratch of his stubble as he nested against her palm was rough, but not uncomfortable, and as she let her thumb trace over the scar on his lip, she thought again about this afternoon. Cullen wasn’t just Cullen anymore, or even Commander Cullen. He was HER Cullen. Always, and only.

She kissed him goodnight, then wandered away to her rooms, gently chewing her bottom lip. It felt slightly bruised and swollen from the kissing, and there was a fine raised line on the inside of her top lip. It was nice, she thought, to have that, a small reminder that it was real, that he really had spent the whole afternoon kissing her on the battlements. As she went to sleep, the only thing she could think was that, despite everything that had gone on, being asked to go to the Conclave was the best thing that had ever happened to her.


	13. Chapter 13

For the third time that week, Aelyth and Cullen were meeting in the small library near the dungeons. It was the only place they’d found where privacy was still an option, because there was no reason for anyone to want to be there. The books were dusty, half rotting in the damp air, and there was a faint smell of mildew. Still, it was tolerable, especially if it was the only way they could get a few minutes alone.

His hands were resting on her hips where they sat on the edge of the table, while her hands were threaded in the thick curls at the back of his head. Their tongues tangled together, breathless kisses making their heads swim. Maker, he could live in her arms, so soft and welcoming.

When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, doing his best to slow his breathing and cool the heat she’d raised, pulsing through his veins. She gave him that mischievous smile that he loved, the one that said she was going to torture him with the pleasure of her kisses. She loved leaving him hot, aching for her, and, Andraste preserve him, he loved it too. That unspoken promise of what would come later, when privacy wasn’t as difficult to find. She’d been teasing him for so long, he thought he might burst if he didn’t have her soon, but at the same time, the anticipation drove him wild. 

“I suppose we ought to tell everyone soon, so we can stop sneaking about like children.” 

“Cullen, they’ve got bets about us! I’m not letting them have the satisfaction of knowing.”

He leaned into her neck, nibbling the soft spot beneath her ear that always made her gasp.

“I can certainly understand that, but, I have to admit, I’m very glad that there’s at least something for them to talk about. If there wasn’t . . . .”

She smiled, a breathy laugh turning into a gasp as he bit another sensitive area on her neck. Gently, she pushed him away, resting her hands on his chest.

“I know, but I wish they would all to learn to just leave us alone and stop putting themselves in the middle of my personal life. If they find out we’re together . . . Andraste, Cullen, can you imagine the teasing? The questions? I feel like we’d never get a minute to ourselves. It’s bad enough as they think things are . . . Josephine’s already made me promise that she’d be the first person I told. And can you imagine the way Varric will get at you? Or the . . . suggestions that Bull might make?”

Cullen had to admit, the prospect of either of those was enough to make him blush. 

“Don’t tell me you want to keep it a secret forever, though?”

She could tell by his face, Cullen was worried she was ashamed of him, or at least of being connected to him romantically. She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look in her eyes.

“Maker, no, Cullen. I’m beyond proud to have you by my side.” He smiled softly, nerves eased. “I just want it to be taken seriously by the others. What I feel for you, it’s not a joke, or some silly thing to make bets about. And it’s not something I want other people swooning over, the romantic story of the Herald and her Commander. No matter how romantic it actually is.”

He gave her a sweet smile, running his thumb along her bottom lip.

“You think it’s romantic?”

“Of course I do! Listen, the day you kissed me, how long had you been thinking about it? Wanting to?”

A blush crawled up his cheeks. “Longer than I want to admit.”

She laughed. “Well I’ll tell you how long I wanted you to kiss me, then. Do you remember a day, back at Haven, when you were talking to a young recruit named Aiden?”

“Yes, right after you arrived. He’s turned into one of our best soldiers.”

She nodded. “Because you were so kind to him. You took the time to understand what he was going through, and treated him with consideration for that.”

“You saw all of that?”

“Yes, and I knew that someone who was so formidable, yet could lead with such compassion, was someone I wanted to know better. Though, if I’m honest, I didn’t actually want you to kiss me until we were arguing over the Templars in the war room.”

“Maker, I was so terribly rude to you. And you wanted to kiss me?”

“Well imagine it! You, caught up in the passion of your argument, and me, defending my side just as strongly. Two strong-willed people, face to face, blood already pounding because of their fighting . . . and suddenly, you kiss me, and it doesn’t really matter who was right and who was wrong, because all of that passion and heat just bleeds into the kiss. Our bodies pressed together, my hands in your hair, your arms around my waist, lifting me up onto the table as I wrap my legs around you-“

“Maker preserve me, could you stop? Otherwise we’ll never leave this room.”

“I can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon,” she smirked.

“Yes, well . . ,” he cleared his throat, “that may be true. But when I’m with you that way for the first time, I don’t want to be rushed, or forced to use whatever furniture is at hand. There’s a time and place for that sort of thing, but not then.”

She smiled. “What do you want then?”

His eyes dropped to the ground, another blush burning his cheeks, but she wasn’t going to let him get away this time. Taking his face in her hands, she tilted it upward, until his eyes met hers.

“Tell me.”

Her voice was a dark, quiet whisper, tinged with something unnameable that held him in thrall. He couldn’t have resisted if he’d wanted to.

“Your chambers, late at night. I’ll come to you, pretend to have a message if I need to, though I’d prefer to just remain unnoticed. When I knock, you’ll invite me in.” He swallowed thickly. “You’d be laid out on your bed, beneath the covers. Naked.”

Heat was coursing through his veins, rousing passion that was better left alone, but, sweet Maker, the look in her eyes had him hooked. She was hanging on his every word, as excited by his thoughts as he was. She ran a hand through his hair and he closed his eyes.

“I’ll come to you, and you’ll watch me while I remove my armor. I can tell you’re impatient, eager to get me in bed, but I take my time, letting you watch as I slowly reveal myself to you.”

Her pulse was racing, deep, stuttering breaths coming out of her. Did he have the slightest idea what his words were doing to her? How much he was making her want him? Andraste, his thoughts were more than enough, but his voice . . . the way she could hear how much he wanted her . . . .

“When my armor is gone, and I’m down to just my linens, I’ll crawl beside you on the bed, cupping my hand behind your head to pull you into a kiss. My other hand finds your legs, and I can feel the heat of your skin through the sheets. Your kiss is dizzying, intoxicating, as you pull me down on top of you.”

His breathing was rapid around his words, and she knew if she were to reach between his legs, she’d find him hard. Slowly, gently, she wrapped her hand around the back of his head, leaning to whisper in his ear.

“And what do you do then, Commander?”'

The way she’d said his title sent a shiver of lust down his spine, the sudden throbbing between his legs nearly making him cry out. By the breath of Andraste, he’d never suspected that he could feel so much wanting for someone. He forced his eyes to meet hers, to watch the way his words affected her.

“Beginning with those gorgeous lips, I’d work my way down, kissing every inch of your flesh. I would suck, bite, and nip at your skin, leaving marks behind. Marks that you couldn’t hide, because I want everyone to know. I want them to see that I’ve been with you, spent the night in your arms, and I’ve left you exhausted. That I have wrung every single exquisite drop of pleasure from your body.”

Aelyth drew in a shuddering breath, pulling Cullen’s face close to hers.

“Cullen . . . ,” she whispered, voice husky with lust, “you have no idea how difficult it is for me not to order you to my quarters immediately.”

His fingers trailed against the side of her face, resting beneath her chin, and he chuckled quietly.

“Abusing your power as the Inquisitor to take advantage of your subordinates?”

“Only if you want me to.”

He closed his eyes, bringing his forehead to hers. “Sweet Maker, I want you to. I want it more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.” He let his eyes open to hers again, drawing back. “But we’re both needed elsewhere. It’s a wonder we got as much time as we did. I know Vivienne wanted to speak to you, and she’s likely to tear apart the entire castle to find you. And I’m due for a meeting with Barris, to discuss the direction training should take.”

Aelyth sighed. “I know. Even if we were public, the demands on our time wouldn’t stop. I just wish . . . I wish that for a little while, I didn’t have to be the Inquisitor. That you and I weren’t who we are, but were simple, normal people, with normal lives. Then again, if we were both normal people, we wouldn’t be the people we’ve fallen in love with.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He kissed her forehead. “I should go.”

She nodded, watching him as he walked away. At the last minute, he turned to give her a smile, then went on his way. Aelyth sat back, counting the minutes. If she left too soon after he did, it might raise suspicion, and she wanted this to herself for a while longer. She’d mean what she said, that she was proud of him. Often, when she was stuck meeting with nobles who despised anyone who lacked a family title, or was being approached about a political marriage, she wished she could announce that she was taken, and have him stand beside her. After all, she would have been one of “those people” that they hated, if she hadn’t ended up with the mark. But privacy, knowing that when they were together no one was watching and judging, meant so much more. As the Inquisitor, she was always in the spotlight, under scrutiny. While she was used to it, she didn’t want to subject Cullen to the same thing. He’d taken forever to convince that he was worth her love, and she wasn’t going to have him dragged back into self-doubt. 

She’d barely stepped out of the hallway when Josephine cornered her.

“Inquisitor, we must speak about the ball in Orlais. You must attend, and I must prepare you for it, whether you like it or not.”

“I know, Josephine. I apologize for being so difficult about the whole thing, it’s just that, well, it’s all nobles and lying, sneaking about, being proper and everything. I hate that stuff almost as much as Sera does.”

“I am quite aware, Inquisitor. However, your presence as both the Herald of Andraste and the leader of the Inquisition is required. It may not be your preference, but leadership is never wholly agreeable.”

With that, she let Josephine lead her away, briefing her on the essential information she would need. She, apparently, would also be taking dance lessons, learning about the history of Orlais, and working on identifying the major political figures she would be dealing with. It was times like this that she really hated the position she found herself in. Despite wanting to help, not to mention being the only one who could, she felt useless. She knew what she’d be doing at the ball was as important as the fighting and the traveling, but it didn’t feel like it to her. 

After spending the entire afternoon with Josephine, Aelyth felt like her brain was on fire. So much to learn, so many things she had to remember. She definitely should have started earlier. As it was, she’d be lucky if she didn’t make a fool of herself. That would be something she never lived down. The whole of Thedas, disappointed in her.

Like she could sense her rotten mood, Sera showed up just as she was thinking of locking herself in her room. It was a funny thing with them, they got on like anything, but were so different. Sera was an elf who’d been raised by humans, and disliked anything too “elfy”. Aelyth was a human who’d been raised by elves, and thus had a natural distrust of humans. But put the two of them in a room together, and it was all laughter. 

As usual, Sera cheered her right up, buying her a drink, then taking her to pull some pranks. Aelyth had probably gotten a little too much satisfaction out of prancing Josephine, but after that afternoon, it was worth it. Cullen would be upset about his desk, despite the fact that it was completely hilarious, but she could make it up to him later. The point was, she had fun, and for a little bit, she wasn’t the big scary Inquisitor with all of the responsibilities. She was happy.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I apologize if my updates are slower from here on- I’m approaching the end of what was already written, and have had less time to write of late. I promise, I’m still working on it!

“Andraste’s holy name, Josephine, we actually have to wear this? I admit, I’m more comfortable in pants than I would be in a dress, but, still. It’s a BALL. Shouldn’t I be wearing . . . some sort of gown?”

Josephine sighed. “I had thought that, given your general resistance to anything remotely feminine, you would prefer to wear the same clothing as the rest of the party.”

Aelyth glared at her. “This offers no protection. If I’m attacked, velvet will provide no more protection than silk, and it is decidedly heavier and more uncomfortable. Isn’t there, I don’t know, some sort of formal armor I could wear?”

Cullen stifled a laugh. Josephine was beyond frustrated with Aelyth already, and they’d only been working on the fitting for fifteen minutes. He couldn’t blame her for disliking the clothing, though. It was itchy, hot, uncomfortable, and incredibly ugly, a bright, garish blue and red. He’d have preferred something darker and less . . . obvious, but Josephine insisted they should “stand out” amid the sea of greys, black, and white.

“Josephine. Please. You know I adore you, but if I’m going to be switching back and forth between fighting and dancing, I at least would like to wear something can easily throw armor over, instead of being exposed or having to take extra time to change. Bull will be fine, he’s practically made of stone, anyway. Dorian has his magic to protect him, as does Vivienne. I need to be safe.”

Bull chuckled in the background, while Dorian laughed loudly at her stubborn insistence. Everyone’s eyes were on the standoff between the two women. The tailor was cowering in the corner, obviously unsure if he should be more afraid of the Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, or Josephine’s steely gaze. Finally, Vivienne approached.

“The Inquisitor makes an excellent point, my dear. As the head of the Inquisition, she must remain as safe as possible. I don’t like these tasteless garments any more than she does, but I am not the Inquisitor. It would not do for her to show up in any less than the finest. If, perhaps, we could arrange some easily removable pieces, lightweight, that could be worn beneath her leathers?”

The tailor and seamstress both nodded, disappearing into the back room with the Inquisitor. While they waited, Leliana and Vivienne gossiped, Josephine steaming to the side. Cullen was certain that Dorian and Bull were exchanging innuendo in their private corner, judging by Dorian’s flush and raised eyebrows. He, meanwhile, simply stood back, leaning against the wall and dreaming about the next time he’d get a chance to be alone with Aelyth. 

He was startled back to reality by the sight of Aelyth stepping out into the room. She wore what looked to be a fine gossamer gown in dark green, very nearly sheer. He could just make out the globes of her breasts on either side of the deep v of the neckline, filling out the material gathered over them. The sleeves were long, open down the sides except at the shoulder, elbow, and wrist. They were attached to the bodice only on top of the shoulders, giving her plenty of space and flexibility for drawing her bow, while also exposing a delicious sliver of skin. The skirt of it was wonderfully fluid, appearing to be simply layers of fabric, until Aelyth smiled and lifted the hem, revealing a pair of full, billowing pants of the same material. A silver chain decorated her waist, drawing Cullen’s attention to the curves of her hips. Maker, she looked incredible.

“It’s wonderful!” She cried. “And it’s so easy to move in.” 

She displayed this with a spirited twirl that made Cullen’s heart ache. He wished desperately at that moment that their relationship was public, because he wanted nothing more than to pull her, smiling, against his chest and kiss her for all he was worth.

“And look,” she removed the belt and grasped the edge of the skirt, pulling it away. “I just take this off, and I can put on my vest and braces. I’ll be ready to fight in no time.”

Her wide, easy smile soon had them all grinning, even Josephine’s face softening. 

“Damn, boss. You look good.”

“I quite agree, Bull. Lovely,” said Dorian.

“Yes,” Vivienne agreed, “it does suit you.”

“Orlais won’t know what hit them,” Leliana contributed.

Josephine sighed, finally allowing herself a soft smile. “I admit, it’s quite a sight.”

Aelyth’s eyes lit on Cullen, smiling one of those devious smiles that always had him squirming. She was going to ask him his opinion, he knew it, and he was going to make a fool of himself. How could he not? She looked positively ethereal, like something from a fantasy. Better, actually. This outfit would be a repeated presence in the dark, desirous dreams he had, he knew.

“And how do you feel about it, Cullen? You’re the only be who hasn’t spoken. Do you find it disagreeable?”

“Maker, no,” Cullen gasped out. “You look fantastic.”

The others glanced at each other while she smiled at him, faking shyness. Andraste preserve him, he knew what they were thinking, he just knew it. His face flushed crimson. He was proven right after Aelyth returned to the back to change, and Leliana strode over to him.

“Careful, Commander. You don’t want to drool on your clothes.” 

“I-,” he stammered. “I’m not sure what you mean, Leliana.”

She raised a doubtful eyebrow at him, walking away while everyone else tittered behind their hands. As they all left to change, Vivienne rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, Commander. You could try a bit of subtlety.”

If he’d thought she looked beautiful when she’d tried the dress on, he was completely unprepared for the sight of her on the night of the ball. Her dress had been tailored to fit her curves more closely, and coupled with the elaborate braided hairstyle and silver jewelry she wore, it made her look as if she’d stepped out of a fairy tale. The second he laid eyes on her, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. All he could think of was how terribly, terribly unworthy he was to even be in the same room. The entire trip, all through her presentation to the Empress, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. 

Even as a small entourage of women surrounded him, questioning him on his preferences, his availability, and whether he’d like to dance, he had eyes only for her. He knew he’d been answering the questions they asked, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what they were. The women pressed in, backing him to the wall, vying for his attention, but he couldn’t possibly have cared less. That was Aelyth out there, his Aelyth. Though he could hardly believe it, he reminded himself of that, over and over, warmth growing in his chest. He’d held her, he’d kissed her. It was him that she cared for, thought the fact still astonished him.

He was watching her approach him, his heart thrumming on his chest, when he felt a sharp pinch at his backside. The sensation snapped him back to where he was as he looked sharply at the woman beside him.

“Did you just grab my bottom?”

She smiled teasingly at him, and he was in the process of biting back an admonishment when Aelyth pushed her way through the throng. She stood before him, staring coldly for a moment before speaking.

“Commander, might I have a word with you? Privately?”

He nodded, following her as she pushed out of the gaggle of ladies and headed to an abandoned balcony. She closed the doors behind them, then spun to face him.

“It looks like you’ve developed quite a fan club.”

“I . . . yes. I suppose.” The coolness of her demeanor had him confused.

“I suppose it pleases you. The handsome Commander, taking his pick of the titled beauties. It’s one way to raise your place in the world.”

Oh. Oh dear. That’s what this was about.

He glanced to the doors, making certain they were unobserved before he reached to take her hand in his. She tried to pull away, but he gripped it tighter, pulling her close.

“Aelyth. I assure you, I have absolutely no interest in any of those women.” His free hand cupped the side of her face. “I’m yours. Only yours, always.”

Her face softened as she leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . all of those women are so unlike me. They’ve been raised in this, and I feel so at sea. They’re all mannered, and titled, and they’re so feminine, delicate, and beautiful. They make me look like an oaf.”

He shook his head, smiling. “They are unlike you. They have been raised in this, and they are mannered, feminine, and delicate.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Cullen, this isn’t exactly reassuring me.”

He took her face in both of his hands. “But you’re wrong when you say they’re beautiful, and they make you look like an oaf. Maker, Aelyth, you’re the most beautiful woman at this entire affair. You’re the woman I want, not them. I like what you are. I like your strength, and your curves, and the way you speak plainly and don’t play games. And, to be frank, I know that I’m not the only man here who’s noticed you. Have you not seen the attention you draw, each time you walk past? The way they stare? Aelyth, you have nearly every man here at your feet. Myself included.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re the only one that matters to me, Cullen.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “And you to me.” He sighed heavily. “I wish I could kiss you.”

“Me too. But, Cullen? Would you save me a dance?”

He straightened. “Oh. Um . . . I’m sorry. I don’t . . . I don’t dance, really. It wasn’t something that was part of our training . . . .”

“Okay.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice, making his heart twist in regret.

“I am sorry. Genuinely.”

She nodded, heading back through the doors and inside and leaving Cullen alone with his thoughts. What in Andraste’s name had he been thinking? She’d been insecure, worried that he was more interested in those shallow Orlesian women than her. She’d come to him, she’d asked him to dance, even after that. He should have said yes. Maker, he was an idiot.

He tried not to think about it, but the longer the night went on, the more he regretted it. It seemed as if every time Aelyth slipped away, he got wind of some new thing that put her life in danger. Fighting in the servant’s wing. Confronting a would-be assassin. Coming face to face with an apostate who may or may not be the one behind the plot to assasinate the Empress. Regret was driving him mad. 

Then he’d watched her on the floor, dancing with Duchess Florianne. In that dress, she looked like nothing less than a goddess, floating across the floor. If someone had told him that she was the human embodiment of the Maker, he wouldn’t have argued in the slightest. All he could think was that it could be him, with her arms around him, her body pressed close. He could be the one watching that glorious smile.

When she returned after a long trip to the closed wing, the one supposedly closed for renovations, he thought his heart would stop. She hadn’t even changed back into her dress, simply leaving on the blood-stained leather armor. The left side of her face had a bright, raw scrape across the cheek, her right arm was bleeding from a cut to the shoulder, and both forearms were crisscrossed with a network of cuts, bruises, and burns. Then she’d mentioned Corypheus. Every fiber of his being wanted, needed, to take her in his arms, to collapse with her to the floor and tell her how sorry he was for not agreeing to the dance she’d wanted.

Instead, he had to pretend to be unaffected by her state, watching as she moved to face Florianne, exposing her treacherous behavior. As she laid bare before the court exactly what had happened, he made two important decisions. The first was that as soon as she was free, he was going to take her somewhere private and give her the dance she’d asked for. The second was that he was going to tell her that he was done with the secrecy. Teasing and questioning be damned, he wanted the world to know that he belonged to her.

It was some time before she was alone again, being dragged from one place to another to explain the situation, or announce a treaty with the Empress. But when he saw her slip onto the balcony they’d stood on earlier, he knew it was his chance. Morrigan, the once suspected assassin, beat him out there, but he waited, even if it was with a great deal of impatience. When she finally left Aelyth alone, it was all he could do to force himself not to run.

“You’re not with the others?”

She turned quickly, giving him a soft smile as he approached where she was leaning on the railing. He leaned down beside her, pressing his shoulder against hers.

“Everyone was looking for you.”

“I know. Why do you think I came out here?”

She laughed softly, and he did the same, then turned to face her. 

“It’s foolish, I know, but I was worried for you tonight. Are you alright?”

She nodded, facing him. “I suppose. Everything’s just so much bigger than I thought it would be. I went to the conclave thinking that I would just be an advocate for the elves, and ended up with the mark. I closed the breach, then found out I’d have to face a nearly immortal being who wants to be a god. And now, I come to stop an assassination, and end up being the face of a treaty between humans and elves. It’s all . . . very exhausting.”

He reached up to gently touch the injuries on her face, drawing back quickly as she flinched.

“Aelyth, I . . . Maker, when I saw you come in that last time, injured as you are, all I could think was that you could have died.” He swallowed hard. “You could have died, and, like an idiot, I’d refused the one thing you’d asked of me this night.”

“Cullen, it’s alright, really-“

“No, it isn’t.” He lightly trailed his fingers along the uninjured side of her face. “Neither of us are in the safest of positions. Every day we face, every moment we fight, might be our last. If you hadn’t come back to me tonight, my final memory of you would be that you had asked me to dance, and I had refused. Not even with a good reason.”

He took her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers.

“It’s true, I don’t dance. It wasn’t a part of my life as a Templar, I’ve never had to, and I’ve never been trained.” He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close, and took her hand in his. “But for you, I’ll try. Just . . . forgive me if I’m completely dreadful at this.”

As he began to move her in time with the music, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. Resting her head against his chest, she whispered where only he could hear.

“Cullen, I don’t care if you step all over me. This means more to me than anything else in the world. No one has ever cared for me like this, like you do.”

He held her tightly, warmth spreading throughout his body. He’d never loved anyone like this, and he knew he never would again. If they failed at everything, if the world crashed into oblivion around them, despite their best efforts, he wouldn’t regret it. Not when it had brought her to him. 

As they moved together on the balcony, neither of them noticed that, in his haste to get to her, Cullen had left the doors to the balcony partially open. What began as one pair of eyes turned to another, and another, until every attending member of the Inquisition was watching them through the small crack. There were, of course, appreciative whispers and murmurs of admiration, but more than that, there was the quiet jingling of money exchanging hands.

And Cullen and Aelyth danced on, oblivious to it all.


	15. Chapter 15

They were at the war table when it happened.

“I’ve received requests regarding your lineage from several interested parties who were in attendance at the Winter Palace, Commander.”

He made a face of disgust, noticing that Aelyth seemed to be glaring. 

“Andraste preserve me . . . feel free to use those requests as kindling.”

“No,” said Leliana, “I want to know who pines for our Commander. We can use this to our advantage.”

“I’m not bait!” 

By this time, Cullen’s face was bright pink, and Aelyth looked ready to spit fire. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t help but feel flattered at Aelyth’s apparent possessiveness. He hadn’t yet had the chance to talk to her about going public, but, after her insecurity at the palace, he was betting she wouldn’t be able to let this go. He was proven right after Leliana told him to simply “hush and look pretty”. Aelyth put her hands down on the table hard, raising an eyebrow.

“Over my dead body, Leliana.” 

The entire group turned to look at her, and she returned their gaze casually, eyebrow still raised. There had been comments since they’d all returned from the Winter Palace, enough that Aelyth had guessed they’d been discovered. Now she was calling their bluff, daring them to confess.

“Has this anything to do with a certain dance on the balcony?”

Leliana’s words made Cullen’s blood run cold. Unlike Aelyth, he hadn’t overheard the comments, and was thus unaware that they’d been watched. Aelyth just shrugged.

“Of course. Though I’d think that you could all find better things to do than spy on your Inquisitor. I trust this will cause no problems?”

Leliana smiled. “Of course not. Congratulations, Inquisitor, Commander.”

“Yes, my Congratulations to you both.”

“Thank you Josepine, Leliana. Now, is there more we need to discuss, or might I steal our Commander for the afternoon?”

The other parties gave a polite nod, then filed out, leaving Cullen and Aelyth alone in the war room. Cullen simply stood there, looking at her with a grin plastered on his face. When she finally approached him, she grasped his face in her hands, pulling him to look in her eyes.

“Cullen? Are you alright? Have I stunned you into silence?”

“No!” His voice was louder than he meant it to be. “I mean, I just . . . I can’t believe you just . . . said that. So easily.” He put his arms around her. “I’d wanted to talk to you about it, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel. The last time I mentioned it, you didn’t seem like you wanted anyone to know.”

“Well,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, “I was rather distressed at the Winter Palace, seeing all of those women approach you. Not that I don’t trust you, of course.” She stretched to kiss his cheek. “But I found myself feeling very, very jealous. You should count yourself lucky that I didn’t just force my way over and pull you into a kiss.”

“I’d count myself luckier if you had,” he laughed.

“Noted. The next time I’m having a fit of jealousy, I’ll simply walk over to you and kiss you. Regardless of the situation. I should warn you, I get jealous quite a bit.”

“Sounds perfect.”

He leaned down, letting her pull him into a breathless kiss. It was deliciously slow and deep, with her hands held firmly against the back of his head. He let his hands drift down her sides, tracing the curve of her hips. When they broke apart, he cupped the side of her face with his hand.

“Do you remember when you told me about the first time you wanted me to kiss you? Back in the war room at Haven? I don’t think a day’s gone by where I haven’t thought of kissing you in this room since then.”

“That works out well, then. Where else do you want to kiss me?”

He laughed. “Everywhere.”

“Are we speaking of rooms in Skyhold, or places on my body?”

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?”

Smiling, she answered for him. “Both, then.”

They were unprepared for the chorus of cheers that erupted when they stepped out into the great hall, their friends moving to surround them. Aelyth rolled her eyes, letting Cullen pull her against his chest with a laugh. For all of his whispered complaints, she knew he was enjoying it. The whole castle knowing they were together meant there would be no more waiting, no more hiding in dusty, abandoned rooms. He’d be able to show her how much he cared anytime he felt like it, something he was proving time and time again as he laced his fingers in hers, repeatedly bringing them to his lips. She’d had no idea that Cullen would love the spectacle of being with her this way, and found it incredibly charming. 

She’d been completely sincere when she’d asked to borrow him for the afternoon, and they spent it mainly walking the grounds. Cullen’s hand only left hers when it was wrapped around her waist, or cupping the side of her face as he kissed her. He did quite a bit of that last, seemingly intent on keeping his promise of kissing her everywhere in Skyhold. As they neared the garden, however, he noticed that she was the one getting excited.

“Cullen, can I show you something?”

“Of course.”

She dragged him by the hands towards the garden, but the two were stopped in their tracks by the sudden appearance of a young boy. Aelyth turned back towards Cullen, who gave a small shrug. For a few moments, the boy simply stood there, looking up at them. When he finally spoke, he sounded younger than he looked.

“Are you the Inquisitor?”

Aelyth smiled. “Yes, that’s right.” 

Then the boy looked towards Cullen. “And you’re a Templar.”

“Formerly, anyway.”

“You’re not as scary as I thought you’d be. Mother said most Templars are maniacs, and that the Inquisitor was a fearsome lady who’d fought dragons!”

“Well,” said Aelyth in a low, conspiratorial voice, “I have fought dragons. But Cullen certainly isn’t a maniac. In fact, he’s very sweet. Don’t you see how nicely he holds my hand? And if I kiss him on the cheek, he goes bright red!”

The boy laughed. “He’s already red, and you haven’t even kissed him!”

“Kieran!” A sharp voice came from behind them, and Aelyth turned to see Morrigan, former advisor to Empress Celene, coming up beside them. “You’re not bothering the Inquisitor, are you?”

“No mother. She was just showing me how she can make her Templar’s cheeks go all red!”

“Is that a fact?” Morrigan laughed, turning towards the couple. “My apologies Inquisitor, Commander. I’m afraid he has quite a habit of turn up where he shouldn’t.”

“Not at all,” Cullen answered. “He seems like a fine young man.”

“I thank you.” She gave a respectful nod, which he returned, then she turned towards her son. “Now, Kieran, I believe it’s time for your studies.”

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading him away. Before they disappeared into the castle, he turned to his mother.

“Her Templar was really nice. Do you think maybe one day, I could be a Templar like him?”

“We shall have to see . . . .”

Aelyth turned to find Cullen looking at her with a strange, wistful smile.

“What?”

Cullen’s smile broadened. “It was lovely to see you talking to him. I’ve never seen you with children before, you have a good way with them.”

“I like children very much. I’d always dreamed I’d have a giant family, though I think my time may be running out for that. What about you? Do you like children? Are there any little Cullens running around out there?”

“Heavens, no! I mean, I have no children. I do like them, though. I’d wanted a rather large family, myself.” He paused, looking at Aelyth for a moment. “You’d make a wonderful mother.”

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that, Cullen. It’s absolutely imperative that Corypheus be defeated BEFORE you impregnate me, thank you!”

“What? Wait, no! Maker’s breath, that’s not what . . . I didn’t mean . . . .” He sighed, looking very distraught as Aelyth laughed. “I’m pleased I can offer you so much amusement.”

“Cullen, it was funny!” She cupped his pink cheeks, bringing his forehead to hers. “ I didn’t intend to upset you. I do want children someday. It’s certainly a nice thought, that they could be yours. Just imagine the hair!”

He laughed as she tugged her fingers through his curls. “They would certainly not lack for curls.” His arms twined around her waist, bringing her closer. “I must admit, it’s nice to hear that you’ve considered a future with me. I knew that, when this was all over, I wouldn’t want to move on, to leave you behind. But I wasn’t sure how you felt, if you would want-“

“There you are!” Varric’s head popped suddenly around the corner. “We’re just about to play a game of Wicked Grace. Join us! You too, Curly. Show everyone you know how to actually have fun.”

Cullen groaned against the top of Aelyth’s head. 

“Must we?”

“No, we don’t have to. But they’re our friends, and I’m sure they really only want to see us together. They’re happy for us, and it’s a good time for you to prove you’re not the straight-laced, grumpy ex-Templar that they think you are.”

“What if I am?” He smiled. “Maybe I am just grumpy, and all I can do is work, and I don’t know how to have any fun?”

Aelyth sighed. “Then I would love you just the same. But we both know that isn’t true. A man who only knows how to work wouldn’t spend time sneaking away with the Inquisitor, kissing her on tables and telling her his fantasies.”

Cullen’s face twisted into a silly grin. “You love me?”

She smiled at him, grabbing ahold of his hand and dragging him into the tavern, grin still on his lips. As soon as everyone saw them, there was a chorus of whoops and yells. Cullen took the seat across the table from her, and the basic rules were laid out, in case anyone had forgotten. Soon the conversation was flowing as swiftly and easily as the alcohol. Finally Josephine asked the question she’d been dying to ask.

“So- the dance at the Winter Palace, was it your first?”

Aelyth looked at Cullen, somewhat nervously. He gave her a wide smile and nod, which she took as permission to tell the truth.

“Actually, we’d been together for a while before the ball. We just kept it hidden. It was so new, and both of us were nervous, so we didn’t want to have eyes all over us. We needed some time to figure out exactly what was going on for ourselves, first.”

“I can certainly respect that.” Cassandra sighed. “Sometimes it seems as if many members of the Inquisition do not understand the meaning of privacy.” She looked pointedly at Varric, who was exchanging money with Bull, based on the new information.

“Don’t look at me like that, Seeker. Everyone here knows I’m a writer. If they didn’t like the idea of their personal life in print, they should’ve kept it to themselves.” He fidgeted with his cards before looking over at Cullen. “So, Curly . . . you okay with a quick interview later? I’m gonna need plenty of juicy details about you and the Inquisitor.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Relax, Curly, I’m only kidding.” Cullen relaxed. “Obviously I’d go directly to the Inquisitor. She’s more likely to give me the really good stuff, anyway.”

There was an enormous outburst of laughter at Cullen’s utterly scandalized face, and conversation continued. Before long, Josephine was taking all of them to the cleaners. Aelyth laughed.

“Sweet Maker, Josephine! You’ll have the entire coffers of the Inquisition by the end of the night.”

“Not a chance,” Cullen said. “I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador. Be prepared to lose.”

Josephine faked a gasp. “A lady has no tells, Commander.”

The competition was fierce, eventually down to just Cullen and Josephine. Aelyth tried to convince him to quit, but his foolish pride wouldn’t let him. Bu the time it was all said and done, his pride was on full display, along with everything else. Josephine had not only robbed him blind, she’d robbed him naked as well.

The next morning, Aelyth smiled as she strode towards Cullen’s office. He should’ve quit while he was ahead, but it had been so delicious to watch him run for the barracks, not a thread of clothing on. Sadly, she hadn’t got quite the look she was hoping for, but she’d gotten enough to know that she wanted to see it all again VERY soon. Later, she’d gone to Josephine to get his things back.

With a quick knock, she let herself in. “I’ve brought your things back. You know Josephine had no intention of keeping them, right? It was just to hit your pride.”

“She certainly did that. Maker, I am never playing cards again.”

Aelyth raised an eyebrow. “But Cullen,” she said, voice low and sultry, “it was so much fun watching you lose.”

“I do NOT need help embarrassing myself in front of you!”

“It wasn’t embarrassing, Cullen. It was . . . enlightening. It made me quite curious, actually.”

“What do you mean, it made-“ he stopped short, eyes widening. “Oh. That. Well, I suppose . . . that’s a bit different, isn’t it?”

He smiled, eyes bright with mischief as he pulled her close to his chest.

“Curiosity is, of course, very healthy. Perhaps one day soon, I can satisfy that curiosity.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Where is the Commander?” Aelyth asked as she walked towards the guard. “He’s not in his room.”

“I believe he’s speaking with Lady Cassandra, by the smithy.”

She nodded her thanks, making her way down the stairs to find them. As she approached, she heard Cullen’s voice, low and insistent. He sounded almost pained, twisting her heart in her chest.

“Cassandra, you swore-“

“That I would watch you, and you swore to trust my judgement. I do not believe that it is time for that.”

Aelyth knocked, opening the door as she did. To her surprise, Cullen merely nodded at her, then moved past her through the doorway. On his way out, he whispered a low apology, leaving her looking at Cassandra in confusion. She shook her head, turning to Aelyth.

“Cullen told you he is no longer taking lyrium?”

“Yes. And I support him completely.”

“As do I. But he believes it is compromising his performance. He has asked me to name a replacement.” She sighed heavily, “I refused. Cullen has worked so hard to get where he is, to move beyond his past. If he were to lose this, it would . . . .”

“Can we change his mind?”

Cassandra smiled at her. “If anyone could, it’s you. Go to him.”

She nodded, then made her way back to his quarters. Worry had her pulse pounding hard in her veins. She’d known he was going through withdrawal, and that sometimes it hurt him badly. She’d seen him through one of the rougher times, and that was why she didn’t understand him not coming to her about it, especially now. He knew she could help him, and that, even if she couldn’t, she’d be with him through it. Yet, instead of coming to her, he’d gone to Cassandra. Not only that, but he’d asked her to replace him. Did he not want to be here anymore? Had she done something wrong, to offend or hurt him?

As she approached his doorway, she was drawn from her thoughts by a sudden crash against the heavy wooden door. The sound made her yelp, drawing back, as Cullen looked up at her, startled.

“Maker’s breath, I didn’t hear you coming!”

“That’s alright,” she said, a half smile on her lips, “at least you missed.”

He shook his head, unmoved by her joke. 

“Forgive me.” He stood from where he’d been hunched at his desk “I . . . Aelyth. I never meant for this to interfere. I just . . . .” 

He touched her face gently, then turned away, a look of utter disgust on his face that had her heart breaking for him. Crossing the room to stand behind him, she gently rubbed his back. For a moment, he allowed it.

“I know, Cullen. It’s alright. If you need to talk, or some time away-“

“No. Aelyth, you . . . you don’t understand. You can’t.” He sighed. “You asked me once, about the Circles in Kirkwall, and what happened. I . . . there were . . . abominations. They took over, and,” he swallowed hard, staring out of the window, “the Templars, my friends . . . I watched them slaughtered, right in front of me. I was tortured, twisted as they tried to break my mind. How can anyone be the same after something like that? Then, after all that, I still wanted to serve. I wanted to help, to be of use. My commander went insane, her fear of mages causing innocent people to die in the streets! Can’t you see, understand, why I wanted nothing more to do with that life? Why I needed something different? And then I come here, and . . . ,” he balled his fists, striking against his desk. “You should be questioning this. I should be taking it. I had thought that without it, I might move forward, regain some measure of control over my life . . . but these thoughts, they won’t leave me! All of the pain, the nightmares . . . I swore myself to the Inquisition, to protect the lives-“

She ducked beneath his arm, standing in front of him and pulling his face to hers.

“Cullen. You are a remarkable man. You give everything that you are, everything that you have, to us, to the Inquisition.”

“I give less of myself to the Inquisition than I ever did to the Chantry. I should take the lyrium, to give it my all, to truly give all that I have to give.”

She stood on her toes, leaning in to kiss him.

“No. You give enough of yourself to the Inquisition, and it will not ask for more. You must leave some of yourself behind, after all. For me.”

He let her slip herself into his arms, cupping her hands behind his head.

“Do you want to take lyrium, Cullen?”

“No, of course not-“

“Then don’t. I want you to be happy. I need it. This could be a different life for you. No one will force anything upon you, no one will ask for more than you have to give. You can be free, if you want.”

He chuckled, running his fingertips over the back of her ears.

“Aelyth, you are . . . ,” he hummed in happiness, then laughed softly. “I could never deserve the woman you are.”

“You don’t have to,” she smiled. “Now, are you in any pain? Are the symptoms bad for you today?”

“Yes, actually. I- my head hurts, and my vision is going dark around the edges sometimes. There’s some dizziness, though that isn’t too bad, and I’m feeling a bit ill. It’s . . . early. Things are likely going to get worse through the day.”

“Do you want to work a bit longer, until you can’t stand it, or would you rather go ahead and lie down?”

“I- I think I’d like to work a bit longer. There’s quite a lot to do, and I think it would make me feel better about taking the afternoon off.”

“Alright. Promise me that when it gets worse, you’ll head to my quarters. I’ll let everyone know we’ll be taking the afternoon off, and tell the maids to be ready with supplies.”

“Aelyth, you don’t have to take the time with me, I can handle myself.”

She feigned shock. “Are you saying you don’t want to spend time with me?”

“No! No, of course not. I just know there’s a lot that needs to be done, and-“

“Let me be the one to worry about it. After all, last time I know it helped you to be touched. Hopefully we’ll be as lucky this time. Just send someone for me when you’re ready.” She smiled, leaving him dazed and delighted, despite the ache of withdrawal. 

He’d been right that things were going to get worse. By noon, his vision had reduced to a narrow tunnel, his head was pounding, and his hands were shaking so bad that he couldn’t hold his papers anymore. With some reluctance, but knowing he’d be in for trouble if he didn’t, he called one of the scouts to help him get to Aelyth’s room, then let her know he was there. As soon as he was alone, he began to remove his armor, but found his hands were shaking too badly to get far. Instead, he gave up, kneeling beside the bed to rest his head.

He was startled awake by Aelyth’s concerned gasp, then her cool hands against his neck. His body was dripping with sweat, so much that he’d left a damp spot on the bed where his head had been resting. Without a word, she removed his armor before tugging him upright. He was trembling so badly that he could barely stand, and had to rest most of his weight on her shoulder as she turned him so that he could lay on the bed. Before he could collapse backwards, she tugged his tunic off of him, and that was the last he remembered before he was unconscious again.

He woke later to the feel of a cool cloth on his forehead, and Aelyth soothingly stroking his hair. When he opened his eyes, the only source of light was a single dim candle beside the bed. He was still feeling a bit off, with his limbs weak and his muscles aching, but the pounding in his head had subsided, and his vision was normal. He cleared his throat, realizing how dry it was, and Aelyth passed him some water. He drank the entire cup, then passed it back to her, rubbing his forehead.

“How long was I out?”

“Nearly six hours.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Cullen, you scared me half to death. Why didn’t you come sooner?”

The fact that she’d clearly been crying made his stomach twist with guilt.

“I’m sorry. I thought I’d be alright. By the time I realized I wasn’t-“

“It’s fine, Cullen, just . . . ,” she pulled him into a kiss and then a fierce hug, “just don’t wait so long next time, alright?”

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her. 

“So how do you feel now? Are you okay?”

“My arms feel heavy, and all of my muscles ache, like I’ve been through an intense training session. And-“

As the realization hit him, he stopped short, peering beneath the sheet that was covering him. 

“Aelyth, where are my clothes?”

“Being washed. You’d soaked them with sweat, and I thought they’d be uncomfortable. You were burning up, so I didn’t think you’d need more than the sheet, anyway.”

“Oh. Ah . . . yes. I suppose you’re right.” His cheeks pinked at the idea of her removing his clothes, even under the circumstances. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t look.” She winked, making his cheeks flush darker. “They’ll bring more of your clothes. In the morning. I didn’t want to take a chance on disturbing you.”

“Oh. Yes, right. Of course.”

“For a man who was perfectly happy to tell me his fantasies of taking me to bed, you’re being awfully shy.” She raised an eyebrow. “Anyway. If your muscles are aching, let me help. It’s probably your body getting rid of the lyrium. A good massage will help flush it out. Just give me a minute to get ready for bed.”

He nodded, watching her disappear behind the privacy screen. Heat was beginning to work it’s way through his body, and it was nothing like the lyrium fever he’d had earlier. He was laying in the Inquisitor’s bed- in Aelyth’s bed, completely naked. She’d stripped him herself, her hands running along his skin, smoothing the sweat from his body- the mere thought sent a rippling of desire through him. He took a shuddering breath inward, trying to steady himself. Whatever his thoughts were, this wasn’t the time. By Andraste, he was still suffering the aftershocks of a bad episode of lyrium withdrawal. She was helping him, trying to ease his pain, not indulge him in his most sinful desires. 

He put his hand to his face, ruffling his blonde curls as he muttered to himself.

“Get ahold of yourself, Cullen. This is not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” Aelyth questioned, stepping from behind the screen. She was wearing a pale grey linen shirt that brushed the top of her knees, it’s wide neck hanging loosely off of her shoulder.

“Oh, um, nothing. I was just . . . .”

“Talking to yourself?” She grinned.

He returned her crooked smile with one of his own, watching intently as she crawled onto the bed near him. She’d left her hair mostly loose, only the front pulled back into a braid to keep it out of her face. As she settled onto her knees, he licked his lips anxiously, unable to keep his eyes away from the slip of thigh her position revealed to him. Try as he might, his arousal was growing, and he knew it would soon be obvious.

“Lay on your stomach. I’m going to do this a bit differently than last time, since I’ll be working on your whole body.”

He did as he was asked, grateful the position would allow her to remain ignorant of his state. She pulled the sheet from over his feet and up to his knees, her oil slicked hands working along the length of his calves. There was a steady rhythm to the way her hands moved, drawing the tension from his muscles, pulling knots from him that he hadn’t even known were there. Slowly, she moved upward, from his ankles, over his calves, until her thumbs were pressing against the inside of his knees. She squeezed gently, finding points of pressure that sometimes made him cry out, then groan as the sheer pleasure of relief washed through his body. Her touch was magical, intensely wonderful, and she soon had him melting beneath her palms. He barely noticed as she pushed the sheet upwards, moving along the backs of his thighs, too deeply relaxed to care. The aching in his muscles was all but gone, replaced by a warm sense of bliss. Her thumbs traced along the junction of his thighs, a reflection of the growing heat between her own legs.

She pulled the sheet back over his legs, letting it rest lightly at his waist before she straddled his thighs. When she’d settled, she poured out more oil, warming it between her hands before she began spreading it across his body. She did so in long, slow strokes that ran from his hips to the top of his shoulders, dipping lower beneath the sheet each time. Finally, she pulled it down completely, taking the hard curve of his ass in her hands. She squeezed gently, pressing the heels of her palms against it in soft, upward strokes that soon had him groaning, the flame of his arousal growing brighter.

“You carry a lot of tension in your hips,” she said in a breathy whisper that quickened his pulse. “You need to loosen up.”

He could only hum in reply, his thoughts now focused only on the way her skin felt against his, the silken way she moved. Andraste’s mercy, this wasn’t what he’d expected. The last time it had been nice, yes, and he’d given more thought to it afterward than he should have, letting it kindle the heat within him, but this- this was something else altogether. The way she stroked the length of his back, the rocking of her body against him . . . Maker’s breath, he could barely contain himself.

He felt her weight shifting on the bed as she moved to straddle his hips, and heard the soft rustling of fabric. His breath was already coming in hot, rapid pants as a dark, shameful part of him thought about what she might look like beneath him, the ways her body would respond. Maker, what would she sound like as he pushed inside of her, satisfying the throbbing ache between his legs? It was enough to drive him mad.

Then she rested her weight, slowly, across his hips, and he couldn’t stop himself from moaning loudly. He felt the soft, silken flesh of her thighs pressed against him, his body nestled firmly between her legs. Her hands slipped up and down his back, the measured pattern of her strokes lost on him. Suddenly the only thing he could focus on was the soft brushing of her curls against his lower back, surrounding the wet heat of her core.

He pushed up slightly, rolling to his back to find her naked above him. As he took in the sight of her, all words left him. He could only whisper her name, like a prayer, humbled as all her glory was revealed to him in the soft light. His hands moved up her thighs, roaming her form like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“Aelyth . . . ,” he breathed in softly, “Maker’s glory, I never thought . . . I never would have believed that I could deserve something like this. Like you.”

He cupped his hand against her cheek and she covered it with hers, turning to kiss his palm. Both of them sat on the verge of tears, their hearts full of love for one another. As Aelyth’s tears began to spill, he brushed them away with his thumb, pushing himself to a sitting position. He pulled her face to his, hardly daring to breathe out of the fear that the moment would be lost.

“I love you, Aelyth.”

She smiled, little more than a twitch against her tears before she pressed her mouth hard against his. When she drew back, gasping, she said the words Cullen never thought he’d hear.

“I love you, Cullen.”

He pulled her to his mouth again, devouring her lips in his passion. Her arms were locked around his neck, her fingers knotting in his hair as he placed hot kisses along the column of her throat. Soft moans became louder, his firm hands grasping desperately at her hips, teeth against her neck, until she was whimpering with need. Maker, she loved this man, already worked into a frenzy by the heat of his touch.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he reached between them, guiding himself to her opening. She pressed her hips forward, rolling against him, needing him, wanting him, as she left a trail of dark marks against his shoulder. His head was thrown back, already in ecstasy and he hadn’t even entered her.

She spread her legs wider, bracing herself against the headboard as he pulled her to him with one hand, the other holding himself steady. Slowly, he sheathed himself inside of her, both of them savoring the moment, the absolute euphoria that came with their joining. He held her tightly against his chest, kissing every inch of skin he could reach, reveling in every gasp, every moan that he drew from her. As her hips began to move against him, she whispered his name, over and over.

“Cullen . . . oh, Maker, Andraste . . . Cullen . . . ,” she gasped out, leaning her forehead against his, “You’ve ruined me, Cullen. I will never want another man.”

“You’ll never need one,” he whispered back. “I will always be here.”

Carefully, he moved her body beneath his, resting his weight on his elbows as he kissed across her chest. He took a breast in his mouth, lapping his rough tongue against her nipple, sucking and grazing his teeth against it. Her hips bucked upward, rolling, searching for him, and he pressed inside of her again. Her moans were a symphony of bliss, urging him ever on. As her nails raked down his back, he knew exactly what she’d meant earlier- he’d never want to bed another woman. Anything else would pale in comparison to the perfection of her hips beneath his, her mouth on his throat. 

Passion had him spending sooner than he would have liked, painting his ardor on the lower half of her stomach. He made to apologize, both for the mess and the brevity of their encounter, but she shushed him with a finger to his lips. Grabbing the cloth she’d held against his forehead earlier, she cleaned them both. Her tender attention to his already sensitive shaft soon had him moaning again, craving more of her, even if it was too soon. 

“Aelyth,” he whispered, fingers running the length of her spine, “Aelyth . . . I have never felt anything like this before.”

She kissed him tenderly, still managing to steal his breath with her fervor.

“Me either. It’s terrifying, in a way, to have so much to lose. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” She pulled him close, burying her face against his chest. “I love you, Cullen.”

He stroked her hair, still unable to believe such a wonder belonged to him.

“I love you, too.”


	17. Chapter 17

After Cullen’s troubles the day before, no one was surprised when he and Aelyth came down to the great hall together. What did catch them off guard was the flushed cheeks, the wide smiles and teasing comments. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, especially when they saw the pink and purple bruises along their necks.

“Hey Cullen,” Bull elbowed him in the ribs as they started towards breakfast, “way to go. But you might want to try a little harder tonight. She’s still walking okay.”

Varric and Cassandra both choked on their drinks, though for very different reasons. While Cassandra glared, Varric couldn’t stop laughing. Any other time, Cullen probably would’ve objected to Bull’s words, or blushed fiercely. Somehow, though, he couldn’t seem to manage either. Instead, he gave Bull a wink, with a cocky grin plastered on his face, and shifted his eyes toward Aelyth. Every move she made, no matter how small, every sound, all he could think about was the fact that he was hers. She wanted him, she loved him. He didn’t think there was anything in the world that could ruin his mood.

Until word came of the missing Wardens.

They’d suspected the Grey Wardens had holed up at Adamant, one of their most formidable strongholds, and Hawke’s friend in the Wardens confirmed it. Already near finished raising their army of demons, they would have to be dealt with without hesitation. This meant that, just after the best night of his life, Cullen was about to face one of the worst. He would be in danger, and Aelyth would too, with no way for him to contact her once they’d parted ways. And so soon after everything at then Winter Palace.

Andraste preserve him.

There was no way they could prevent massive loss of life, no matter how well armed, well prepared, or well planned. It was going to take everything they could muster to get Aelyth where she needed to be, and he could only imagine how badly she would take it. He remembered how badly she’d felt after Haven, and that had been an unavoidable accident, the lives lost in defense of each other. This squarely placed their lives on her shoulders.

That night, he didn’t even bother to head to his quarters, instead joining her as she walked to hers. As soon as they were alone, she leaned into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. The gentle shaking of her shoulders as she cried nearly broke his heart in two, and he was soon spilling tears of his own. He knew she needed him, needed his strength and his surety, but he felt as if he had none to give. He’d only just allowed himself the pleasure of belonging to her, and now he worried it would be ripped from him again.

Carefully, he maneuvered them up towards her bed, removing her minimal armor before shedding his own. He joined her on the edge of the bed in silence for a moment, then took her hand in his.

“I love you.”

What else could he say? His feelings were as large and simple as that. Whatever happened, that was true. When she leaned against him, he kissed her forehead, then pulled her across his lap, letting her bury her face in his neck. If only they could stay that way.

“Cullen, they’re going to die.”

He sighed heavily, his heart aching for her. “Yes, they are.” He kissed her cheek.

“It isn’t fair.”

“No. It isn’t. But it will happen. We will lose a great many, unfortunately. But if we don’t, if they don’t-“

“Then Corypheus has already won. I know. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

“No, Aelyth,” he whispered, stroking the back of her head, “it doesn’t.”

Suddenly her mouth was on his, her teeth digging into his bottom lip as she kissed him with a fierceness that bordered on terrifying. Great sobs began to wrack her body, and he held her as close as he possibly could, knowing it still wasn’t close enough. When she pulled back from the kiss, she held his face hard between her hands, her forehead pressed to his.

“You will not die on me, Cullen Rutherford. That is a direct order from your Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste. You. Will. Live.”

Then her mouth covered his again, lips parted. His tongue traced the shape of her mouth like it had so many times before, but this time it felt different, filled with promises he couldn’t make, that she didn’t dare ask for. If ever he wished he could change things, it was then, with the salt of her tears mingling into that kiss. Maker forgive him, but he wanted more han anything to be selfish in that moment. To whisk her away into the night, take her where they were away from any and everything that could ever part them.

Carelessly, clothing was ripped away, anything between them being more than they could stand. Their bodies melded together in the moonlight, her hips rising ceaselessly to meet his, his breath hot against her neck. As teeth met skin, she cried his name, breathless, into the night. Never before had he needed something the way he needed her that night, nor she him. For that precious time, they were the only two to exist in the world.

Later, she lay against his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. The weight of the future was heavy on them, but they avoided it as much as they could, knowing it would come too soon. As she raised on her elbow, leaning to kiss him, he shifted to let his palm graze the length of her side. He loved her, more than anything, more than his own breath. He reached behind him with one hand, feeling for the small pouch he always had with him. Carefully, he slipped the small silver coin that he kept inside between his fingers, then reached to press it into Aelyth’s palm. Once she’d taken it, he cupped her face in his hand.

“My brother . . . he gave that to me. The day I left for Templar training. I, um, I wasn’t supposed to keep it, Templars’ faith is supposed to see them through whatever they face. But it was the only thing from home that I had. He told me that it would protect me, and bring me luck.”

He slipped his palm over hers, the coin pressed between them.

“I want you to take it. Humor me. If it’s what brought you to me . . . then I want to pass it’s luck to you. I-“ His voice caught in his throat. “I need you to make it out, to survive this. And if I should not make it,” his eyes met hers, both pairs brimming with tears, “if I don’t live, then I want you to have the one thing in this world that means as much to me as you do.”

She threw her arms around him, kissing him again for everything she was worth, then leapt out of bed. He watched as she placed the coin on the edge of her desk, then let her hair out of its braids as quickly as she could. There was something utterly feral about her movements, a wildness in the way she stood there, naked, arms moving quickly. She pulled a small section of her hair forward, braiding it before tying the top and bottom of it with twine. Then, as he looked on, she grabbed a knife from her desk and sliced the braid from her head. 

She paced over to Cullen, sitting beside him on the bed, and grabbed his wrist. Loosely, she wrapped the braid around it, tying it on as a bracelet and letting her palm rest on his. He looked at her incredulously before cupping the side of her face, fingers toying with the shortened lock. Tears were falling from her eyes again, and he brushed them away with his thumb. How had he managed to find such a treasure in this world, in the midst of all this mess?

“I’ll wear it to bring you back to me.” He whispered.

The rest of the night saw them holding each other closely, terrified of going to sleep and missing any time together, despite how much they knew they needed it. Adamant was waiting, looming over their lives in a more immediate way than the threat of Corypheus alone ever had. The very real possibility of losing each other, when they’d only just found happiness together, felt like a kick in the chest. 

Eventually, sleep found them, and the sun after that. The day would be a flurry of activity, preparations and planning, but they would take these last few moments for themselves. Cullen helped her dress carefully, letting his touch linger against her skin, kissing the tender spots he’d grown to love. She did the same to him, awareness that this might be the last time sitting firmly at the front of her mind. The last thing either of them did before leaving was to be sure the other had the tokens they’d traded the night before. If they lived, they would be a symbol that they could make it through anything the world threw at them. If they didn’t, they would know that, in some way, they were together still, at the very end. A sign to the Maker, that their love would not be finished even in death.

The battle was long, and by the time they’d even breached the walls to get Aelyth in, the slick copper scent of blood was heavy in the air. Cullen was lucky enough to be near her at that moment, to speak to her and see her one last time before she confronted Erimond and Clarel. He could do little to acknowledge what he felt, but when Aelyth gripped his wrist over the lock of her hair, his eyes said what his mouth could not, pleading her to return to him.

Then she was gone, Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric beside her. Before they’d left, each of them had taken a moment with him, to assure him they would protect her even at the cost of their own life. Given her station in the Inquisition, they would have done so anyway, but it still gave him some measure of comfort, however small.

From that point, Cullen was in the thick of battle, fighting hard beside his men as he always did. The constant onslaught didn’t allow him the luxury of worry, thank the Maker, so he noticed only two things. The first was that, after hordes of demons and all other manner of horror came through, and Aelyth had helped clear the battlements, many of the Wardens stopped opposing them and began fighting alongside them instead, especially after the dragon’s appearance.

The second was the moment that Clarel blew the bridge out from underneath that dragon, and Aelyth fell.

Time froze as he watched her distant figure careening through the air, falling forever towards nothing. She would not survive the fall, of that he was certain. Nothing could have, not from that height. And then he saw the green glow of her hand as the mark activated, opening a second rift, smaller than the tear in the sky above the fortress. It was into this rift that the group tumbled, sealing itself behind them.

And she was gone.

The second she disappeared, so did the archdemon, leaving Erimond behind to be taken prisoner. Though there were still demons to fight, the loss of their leader left them weakened, easily done in by the soldiers and Warden allies. Cullen, however, no longer fought. Instead, he collapsed to his knees, sword clattering to the ground. His men defended him valiantly, attempting to clear him away from the danger, but he wouldn’t move. He couldn’t. 

She was gone.

He’d known it was possible, even likely, but he’d prayed to the Maker that she’d survive, that if one of them should die, it would be him. He’d been through so much pain, so much sorrow, this was a loss he couldn’t take. The sudden shock immobilized him, and was the only reason he didn’t end his own life then and there. That, and a tiny shred of hope, that he was wrong, that he hadn’t seen what he’d thought. The smallest grain of faith that the Maker would not abandon her, that he would not have lead her to him only to rip her from him so callously. He knew he had atrocities in his past, but nothing he had ever done could possibly deserve a punishment like that.

Eventually, someone found him, whispered enough of the right words in his ear to get him on his feet, but he would fight no more. Instead, he stood to the side, watching numbly as his soldiers fought against the demons falling from the rift above, dribbling out like poison from a wound. If he’d had a way, he would have thrown himself into that gash, let the void swallow him physically, as it had mentally. He could not live without her. He wouldn’t.

No, he wouldn’t. And he would take as many of those demons with him as he could. He owed her that much. And when the Maker saw fit to reunite them, if he deserved it, he would never allow them to be parted again.

He took his sword in hand, and, with a great roar, he lunged at the nearest demon. Black ichor covered his hand, but he payed it no mind, hacking his way through the dwindling horde. The viciousness with which he attacked, his fearsome growls, even the glow of anger in his eyes all but terrified his men, who knew him only as their level headed commander. Now, he was a force of nature, making their efforts nearly irrelevant. He ignored the slash of claws across his face, the tearing at his clothing and armor. Selfishly, he wanted revenge for his loss, and to prove himself worth the gift he’d been given.

As the last of the demons fell, he stood over the bodies, his chest heaving from the effort. Blood clouded his vision as it ran down his face from the deep gash above his eyebrow, and his body trembled with exhaustion from his efforts. He looked up to see his men and the Wardens staring at a spot above him, and it was then that he noticed the green glow emanating from the rift above him. 

He leapt away, turning to face it with his sword lifted, expecting more demons, worse than the last. Between his wounds and the spending of his energy, he knew he wouldn’t make it through another battle, and that was alright. He’d made his peace with death the moment he’d lost Aelyth.

The sky ripped open again, and five figures tumbled to the ground. He recognized Hawke, Varric, Dorian, and even Cassandra. But the final figure was the one that held his attention. Standing below the rift, her arm outstretched and green lightening flashing from her palm, was Aelyth.

There were no words for the relief that flooded his body, tangling with incredulity. It wasn’t possible, no matter how much he wished it to be, yet there she was, closing yet another rift in the sky. When she was done, soldiers and advisors surrounded her, giving news and asking questions, but she paid them little mind. Her eyes, her thoughts, all of her focus was on Cullen, and where he stood, looking like an abandoned child. 

Eventually, someone had the sense to move the crowd away from her, and to leave the two of them to each other. As silence filled the space between them, neither moved, too afraid the other was an illusion, a trick of the fade meant only to torture. Finally, Cullen’s sword clattered to the ground for the second time, and Aelyth launched herself into his arms. Armor be damned, she’d never felt so at home.

A pitiful whine sounded from her throat as she brushed her fingers across his forehead.

“Cullen, you’re hurt. You-“ 

She paused a moment, taking in the sight of him, all the blood and ichor, the bruises already blooming on his skin, the deep cuts that ran along his exposed flesh.

“Andraste preserve me, do you try to take out the entire demon army on your own?”

Her voice was soft and gentle, a playful chiding to apologize for the worry she’d known he felt. His fingertips glided across her face, tracing her features, lingering across the softness of her lips. Even with the damage there, the blood and bruises, the split lip and blackening temple, nothing could have been more beautiful.

“You were gone.”

Spoken quietly, tender and raw with feeling.

“I’ve returned. Cullen, I could not leave you. I would fight every creature in the Void to make my way back to you.”

“As would I.”

She hummed in approval, the ghost of a smile playing upon her lips. 

“Then we are fairly matched, Cullen Rutherford.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pretty much just smut and fluff*
> 
> This is the last fully written chapter, but there’s only a few left, so I’m trying to focus on this story until it’s finished.

They were not to be disturbed.

It had been agreed upon, first by the two of them, and then, eagerly, by the others. Adamant had taken a toll on everyone, but Cullen and Aelyth had felt it most acutely, with her time in the fade and Cullen believing her dead, even briefly. So they had agreed, all of them, that the lovers were to be allowed some time to themselves, to heal, to grieve, and to simply exist, without stress or worry.

Josephine had ordered them an enormous stone bath, larger than the two of them could possibly need, but neither would complain about the luxury. Particularly when it allowed them moments like this, with them both submerged to their shoulders in rich, fragrant water, so hot that steam rose from their skin. Aelyth laid back, her head against Cullen’s shoulder, and sighed, utterly content as he wrapped his arms around her. Soon, he found the shortened lock of her hair, and he began tugging at it gently, threading it through his fingers. She hummed softly, soothed by his attention.

“Cullen, what do you want to do when this is all over with? I mean, if we succeed, and Corypheus is destroyed, and the world saved?”

He rested his warm palm on her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face.

“If you’d asked me before, when I first joined the Inquisition, I’d have told you that I would continue to serve, to move on and fight wherever I was needed. But now . . . I don’t think I could. I’m not sure if, after this, I want to fight anymore. Not if-“

He stopped himself, causing Aelyth to turn to him suddenly.

“What? Cullen, what is it?”

He pressed his face into her neck, inhaling her scent, before he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“I won’t want to leave, to go anywhere else if I have such a compelling reason to stay at home.”

“Mmmm. Home. Would that be a home for us, together?” 

She wiggled her hips back against him, relishing the soft moan it drew. He responded by nipping at her neck, trailing his fingers across the underside of her breasts.

“Whatever you like, darling. Anything.”

His mouth found the tender spot just below her jawline, sucking softly and coaxing a groan out of her as he cupped her breasts in his palms. She could feel his arousal growing against her, matching her own. Reaching a hand behind her to cup the back of his head, she met his mouth with hers. It was a passionate kiss, but tender, slow, as if they had all the time in the world. When the kiss broke, she smiled at him.

“Yes. Our home.” She kissed him again. “Small, remote, but comfortable. In the woods, maybe near a lake?”

He smiled into her neck, kissing her there.

“Yes. A lake would be lovely, like the one I used to go to when I was a child, to escape my siblings.”

She laughed gently. “Yes, as I’m sure our children will.”

He stopped his attentions to stare at her, incredulous, smiling widely.

“Our children . . . .” He whispered.

She moved in the bath, turning to face him on her knees, and he pulled her across his lap fondly. Their foreheads met as she beamed down at him, her hands behind his head.

“Yes, Cullen, our children. As many as we can have, as many as we can care for. Little ones with bright faces and curls, laughing as they play outside, climbing trees, hunting insects in the dirt. Some will have your beautiful amber eyes-“

“And your smile.”

“Maker, just think of it. Between the two of us, they’ll have such broad shoulders, such wild hair.”

“So much of it!” He cupped her face. “And they will be strong, and proud, and gentle, and kind. Just like their mother.”

“And their father.”

He pulled her in for a kiss, full of love for her, so much he felt as if he could drown in it. No words had been created to express the way he felt in that moment, and no words would do it justice. He belonged to her, fully, utterly, completely. As her mouth left his, he gazed at her in admiration, at her broad, beaming smile. Her eyes glittered in the low light, full of mischief.

“Cullen?”

“Mmm?” He let his hands slide across her hips, admiring the wide curves there.

“We should start, and soon.”

Cullen nearly choked, so stunned by her words he couldn’t breathe.

“Trying for children?”

“Of course not.” 

There were three beats of pause, where Cullen relaxed, assuming he’d misunderstood her. Then she continued.

“It’s highly unlikely I’d get pregnant with multiple children at once.”

He searched her eyes, confused, unsure if she was making fun of him.

“Are you serious, Aelyth?”

She shrugged, then curled in his lap, arms around his neck. 

“Cullen, I love you. I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you in it, and neither of us are getting younger. I’d assumed that a family wasn’t in the future for me.”

“As had I.” He rubbed her back soothingly.

“So why shouldn’t we?”

“Aelyth, we can’t pretend that there’s not a possibility that there will be no future. With Corypheus out there-“

“It’s more important than ever that we have hope. Faith, Cullen, that the Maker will see us through this.” She squeezed his shoulders, resting her head against his. “When I was falling into the rift, at Adamant, I’d expected to feel hopeless, finished. As if my life was done, and I would never see you again. But I didn’t. As soon as my feet touched the fade- I just knew. That I would be okay, that I would see you again. The Maker was with me, he’d guided us to each other, and he would see us through this, together. And the more the demon tried to diminish that hope, the more determined I became, until I knew there was nothing, absolutely nothing in any realm, that would keep me from you.”

He touched her face softly, tracing the curve of her cheek. “You never told me that.”

“I have now. And, Cullen, I want your child. I want to create our future, to prove to the Maker that I trust in him. And that you do, as well. We are meant for each other. I am as certain of that as I am of my own name, or the color of my eyes, or how much I love you.”

Cullen took her face in his hands, his heart more full than it had ever been before.

“Maker’s breath, Aelyth. What could I possibly have done to deserve you?”

“You were you, Cullen. That’s all I need.”

He smiled, burying his face in her neck and breathing in her scent. She was the most perfect being he’d ever known, and every moment that he knew her, she only proved herself more so. He massaged the back of her neck gently before looking into her eyes.

“You really want a child with me? Now?”

“Yes, Cullen, I do.”

“We’ve not even married.”

“You haven’t asked.”

As the implications of her words sunk in, Cullen began to smile. First a small, gentle upturn of one corner of his mouth, then it spread to the other. Both sides drew farther upwards, until he was beaming up at her in a smile that seemed to light the entire room.

“You would marry me?”

Aelyth rolled her eyes. “Andraste’s mercy, Cullen. You really have to ask?”

He chuckled against her throat as he kissed her there.

“Yes, and properly. Soon.”

She laughed. “I wait eagerly. But now,” she leaned to kiss his throat and nibble the lobe of his ear, “now, perhaps, we might . . . ?”

“Of course.”

He rose, climbing out of the tub and drying himself quickly. As Aelyth stepped out of the tub behind him, she gripped his shoulder for balance, and soon found him kneeling at her feet, drying her off as well. 

“Cullen, you really don’t-“

“Of course I don’t,” he spoke, looking up at her. “But why give up such a delightful view, or the opportunity to have my hands all over you?”

She smiled as he continued, working his way up her body. By the time he’d reached her neck, his mouth had been added, tongue lapping up droplets of water where they beaded on her skin. Soon the linen he’d been using to dry her off was abandoned completely, dropped to the floor behind her. His hands gripped her hips hard, pushing her back towards the edge of the bath as he kneeled before her once again. His nose brushed gently against the damp curls between her legs, and suddenly she felt his tongue, warm and wet and delicious against her.

“Maker’s mercy, Cullen . . . that . . . that feels so . . . .”

“Good, I hope.”

“Maker, yes, Cullen. Please don’t stop.”

He smiled against her as his tongue probed deeper, drinking in the sweetness of her arousal. The slightest movement of his lips, his tongue, sent waves of pleasure rolling through her body. To Cullen, her moans were music, perfect and sweet, and he never wanted them to stop. 

“You are . . . “ Cullen paused to lap his tongue against her, sucking gently on the swell of her clit “ . . . the most delicious thing . . . that I’ve ever tasted.”

She laughed amid her moans, fingers running through his hair and cupping the back of his head to pull him closer. Her hips worked against him in a slow, steady rhythm, legs spreading farther apart until she could barely keep herself balanced on the edge of the bath.

“Cullen . . . Cullen, the bed . . . I need-“

He swept her into his arms, depositing her neatly on the bed before she had the chance to do more than gasp in surprise. After years of thinking she was too large to be lifted, having a man with the strength to do so, and so easily, sent heat coursing faster through her body. She propped herself on her elbows with her legs splayed wide, watching as Cullen crawled up the bed to position himself between them. His eyes were dark with lust, and sparkling with mischief.

“How many times . . . ,” he mused, pressing his face against her thigh and gently biting her there, “I wonder how many times I can bring you pleasure tonight . . . .”

She smiled, leaning her head back and letting out a low groan as his tongue traced the line of her, leaving her pulsing in need.

“And I wonder how many times you will be able to resist taking your own.”

He chuckled as he pressed his mouth against her once more, wrapping his lips around her and teasing her with the flicking of his tongue. He moaned against her as he sucked, the soft rumbling sending spasms of pleasure jolting through her.

“I’ve never been a patient man.”

He pushed two fingers inside of her, curling them upward and pressing them against that soft, sweet spot inside of her. As he did, he began to suck harder, a cadenced throbbing swelling within her. His fingers matched the rhythm of his mouth perfectly, both together playing her into a clamoring symphony of delectation. She writhed beneath him, fingers twisted in his hair. She moaned, screamed, and cried his name, and still he continued, until, at last, she was a limp mess on the bed, utterly spent, and his face and hand were soaked with the evidence of her satisfaction.

“Oh, yes,” he breathed, pressing soft kisses against her hips. “Yes, perfect.”

She looked a vision to him, divinity itself displayed on her pillow. Everything about her, from the wild nest of her curls, to the swell of her breasts and the breadth of her hips, and on, to the tips of her toes, seemed designed for him. Love, pure and simple, and he would pour his soul into her, into her pleasure and whim, if she asked. This unbreakable woman, and she loved him.

She smiled down at him, eyes heavy with bliss, and reached for him. Happily, he crawled into her arms, letting her stroke the back of his head. If he felt like a child again, it was only because that was the last time he’d ever felt such pure, uninhibited happiness, and rarely even then. As his arms wrapped around her waist, she sighed in contentment.

“Maker, Cullen, I love you so much. When we met, it was as if, for the first time, the world opened before me. I’d never imagined that I would find someone who would love me for everything that I am, with all of the things I’d considered imperfect about myself. But you do.”

“Aelyth . . . there is nothing about you that is less than perfect. Do you know, the first time I laid eyes on you, at the breach, I actually was speechless for a few moments? You were so beautiful, with such a look of determination, and willing to give yourself completely to the cause I’d devoted myself to.” He stroked the side of her face tenderly. “And then I had to go and make an utter fool of myself at Haven. I was so rude to you, at times, and so short. I didn’t know how to conduct myself around you. I was afraid of seeming to familiar, unprofessional- but I was also afraid you might find me too cold. And you asked the most intimate questions. Vows of chastity and all that.”

His cheeks burned even at the memory of it, despite the fact that they were naked in bed together, and she laughed.

“I was trying to break down those walls of ice you’d surrounded yourself with.”

“You certainly did that. I could hardly look at you from then on, you’d inspired such thoughts. I couldn’t get you out of my head. If those ‘walls of ice’ had been real, they’d have melted.”

She looked at him, eyes wide and, if he read it right, a bit excited.

“Really? Those kinds of thoughts?”

“Well . . .” he was blushing again, adorably. “Yes, actually. Entirely too often.”

“How often?”

Her voice had dropped to a low, sultry whisper, making Cullen’s blood pound hot in his veins. Andraste’s breath, that she could do that to him, just with her voice.

“Constantly. Always. I couldn’t look at you without thinking of . . . .”

“Of what?”

There it was. That hook, that sound in her voice, breathless, eager. Wanting. Entirely too enticing for him to resist. He’d always been a private man, when it came to his fantasies and desires, and the thought of ever speaking them aloud would have mortified him. But the way she spoke to him . . . oh, he’d spill every detail for her.

He raised himself on his elbow to look in her eyes.

“I thought of all the ways I might take you. All of the places. I fantasized about pulling you into the training tent, taking you roughly on the table. Coming up behind you in the war room and lowering your leggings, kneeling and devouring you before taking you from behind, and you not knowing it was me until I’d completely ravished you. I would lie in bed, at night, and picture you naked before me, offering yourself to me, and I would-“

He stopped himself suddenly, looking at her, afraid he’d gone too far, or nearly gone too far. But here eyes were wide, her pupils blown as she stared at him, and the rapid rhythm of her pulse didn’t seem frightened or disturbed at all.

She licked her swollen lips. “What did you do, Cullen?”

He said nothing, only looked down with crimsoned cheeks. Gently, she took his chin in her and and forced him to meet her gaze.

“Tell me, darling. Tell me everything.”

“I would touch myself. Close my eyes and imagine your naked body beside mine, pretend it was your hand on my shaft. Your hand, gliding slowly up and down the length of me, your fingers stroking across the head of my cock, circling it. Nearly every night, I took myself into my hand and pumped my hips against my fist, spilling onto my bedsheets and wishing desperately I had the courage to approach you.” He buried his face in her neck. “You probably think I’m pathetic, don’t you?”

“You think I never did the same thing?”

“What? You mean, you . . . ?”

“Oh, sweet Andraste, yes, Cullen. So many times. Late at night, with the moonlight streaming through the windows, I’d slide naked into the sheets, my head filled with thoughts of you. I’d prop myself on the pillows and spread my legs wide, one hand on my breast, the other between my legs. I’d always start slowly, with soft, light strokes across my clit, teasing myself until I was swollen and wet, thinking of you all the while. Then I would dip two fingers inside of myself, wondering how much tighter your fingers would fit, and drag the wetness back up to the top of my slit.”

Cullen was panting beside her, clearly enjoying the fantasy of her spread open, vulnerable, pleasuring herself to thoughts of him. She kissed him, cupping his face before she continued.

“When I was nice and wet, slick from thinking of you, your body, your mouth, your cock, I’d start circling, again, slowly at first. I’d flick my fingertips across my nipple, pretending it was your tongue, or I’d pinch it and squeeze, imagining you sucking it while you touched me. My fingers were yours, pressing hard against me, stroking and circling, working faster as I groaned and called your name in the darkness. And when I came . . . oh, Cullen, I always cried your name, pulsing against my fingers as I fell back into reality, wishing you’d step through the door and tell me you’d heard, and you were going to make me feel so much better than I ever could.”

“Aelyth . . . Andraste’s mercy . . . that was . . . .”

“Nothing compared to what being with you is actually like.”

“I admit, my own touch fell far short of reality, as well.”

There was a brief pause, while Cullen worked up his courage.

“Aelyth?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think that, perhaps, sometime . . . you might . . . let me watch you do that?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’d want to watch me touch myself for you?”

“Maker, yes. It just sounded so . . . incredible.”

She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck.

“For you, Cullen? Anything.”


	19. Chapter 19

Cullen paced in front of the fireplace, as Aelyth began stripping off her leathers.

“It was to be a simple conversation. What happened?” 

She sighed heavily. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Our lead was good, and by all accounts we should have been there well ahead of anyone else. But Calpernia’s agents were already there. I don’t know how it happened, if it was just a coincidence, or if there’s someone betraying us. At this point it doesn’t matter much.”

She winced as she pulled down her vest, accidentally disturbing a fresh wound in the process, and Cullen moved to help her immediately. Once her armor was gone, he took her face in his hands.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to protect you.”

With a smirk, she rolled her eyes and placed her hands over his. “Cullen, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, and I also have a host of friends who are equally capable. You’re needed here, your job is here. I love you, but you can’t let worrying about me distract you from your duty.”

He smiled at her, placing a tender kiss against her lips. “At least let me help you clean up?”

“Of course.”

While he tended her wounds and helped her dress for bed, she told him of the crystals they’d discovered, and what they’d learned from them. Though he’d always seemed a bit suspicious of Dagna, he was clearly impressed with her work.

“So she believes she can turn these memory crystals into a sort of long range hearing device?”

“That’s what we hope,” sighed Aelyth, snuggling beside Cullen in bed. “If it works at all, if it can provide us any information at all about what’s going on-“

“It would be invaluable. Maker’s breath. I wonder if she could recreate something like that from scratch?”

As Cullen rubbed his chin thoughtfully, Aelyth threw her arm across his chest, letting her fingers trail across the stubble on his jaw.

“Think on it tomorrow, Cullen. Right now, I need the warm arms of my Commander, who I’ve missed these long nights.”

With a soft chuckle, Cullen wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. He’d missed her immeasurably while while she was gone, as he always did, but since they’d talked about the future, it seemed . . . easier. Though he worried for her safety, it wasn’t as difficult to face the time without her, knowing that she wanted the rest of her life with him. Time away was only a brief interruption, and, when this was all over, they could be together as often as they liked, without worry or interruption. The thought made him positively giddy. Times like tonight, in her bed, with her across his bare chest, he couldn’t help but think of what it would be like in the future. Their home- smaller, more modest, but theirs. Together. Their children asleep in the next room, or curled between them. Or- sweet Maker. His heart stopped, tears welling in his eyes as he pictured this same situation, her curled beside him, her arm thrown across his chest- but between them her stomach, round with new life. Her carrying his child. 

He held her closer, pressing a kiss to her sleeping forehead as the tears slipped from his eyes. He’d never have imagined that vision of the future to be even possible for him, and now it was all but certain. She loved him, she wanted him, she wanted that same future. 

“Aelyth, my darling,” he whispered in the darkness, “I love you more than my own life. I will always be yours.”

He was alone when he woke the next morning, as he’d expected to be. With everything drawing closer, Aelyth was busier than ever, and now they had this crystal problem to work out. He only hoped that it would give them the edge they needed. Aside from evenings in bed, Cullen hardly saw Aelyth for nearly a week, so he was pleasantly surprised when he looked up to see her standing in the door of his office. 

“Are you free for the afternoon?”

He smiled. “For you, I think I can find the time.”

He laced his fingers in hers as they walked towards the garden, simply enjoying her presence. It wasn’t until they were seated that he spoke.

“When do you leave?”

She smiled sadly. “Tomorrow. You know me too well.”

“You always steal me away when you’re going to leave.” He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m glade you make an effort to spend time with me before you go.”

“Good. I don’t know how long I’ll be this time, unfortunately. We’ve gotten information that points us to something called the Shrine of Dumat. I believe it’s a reference to one of the Old Gods, but, whatever it is, the Venatori want it, so we have to get there first.”

Cullen sighed. “Of course. Only . . . .”

“What?”

He smiled softly. “I know I always say this, but please take care.”

“You do,” she smiled, “and I still appreciate it. I’ll do my best, and you know I always take Bull with me. I think he’s as invested in this relationship as we are.”

“I do owe him, somewhat. He encouraged me more than once to approach you. It was how I learned you might have feelings for me in the first place. I never thought that one day, I’d count a Qunari mercenary among my friends.”

“Yes, well,” she sighed, moving to straddle his lap, “he always tells me that if you ever treat me badly, he’ll be more than happy to take your place.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth, moving to nuzzle against her neck. He nipped softly at her throat, then replied.

“I imagine Dorian might object.”

“Not at all,” she moaned softly as he sucked the skin below her jawline, “he says there’s more than enough of Bull to go around.”

Cullen’s hands found the soft curve of her ass, pulling her to settle across his rapidly hardening cock. Just as he’d hoped, she started rubbing against him, making him groan against her throat as he trailed kisses there.

“I must admit . . ,” she continued in a light, teasing voice, “I am a bit curious. I mean, his sheer size . . . .”

Cullen pulled away, startled, to look into her eyes. They were gleaming bright with mischief.

“Don’t you dare.” He growled, equally teasing as he fondled her breast.

“Oh, Cullen. As if I even could!” She threw her arms around his neck, letting him lift her as he stood. “You own my soul.”

“Good.” He lowered her to the ground, kissing her hard on the mouth. “Now let’s retire somewhere more private, where I can lay claim to the rest of you.”

As was often the case when she was about to leave, the two of them stayed in her chambers until the next morning. He helped her get dressed, then said a thorough goodbye, watching until she was out of sight before returning to his duties. 

When they’d been on the road a little while, Bull spoke up.

“I swear, the two of you are so ridiculous. Even if we couldn’t see the marks you’ve left all over each other’s necks, it’s obvious you’re having a little trouble riding this morning.”

“Hey, you’re the one who told Cullen to ‘try a little harder’. Guess he took your advice. Besides, you don’t think we notice the same thing with Dorian?”

She shot him a look, watching as the giant mercenary squirmed beneath her gaze, then laughed.

“Look, I’m just happy we’ve both found someone. It’s a rough, crazy world. To have found love in it, it almost makes things worth it, doesn’t it?”

Bull shook his head. “For someone facing an impossible demon army and a guy who wants to be a god, you’re awfully optimistic.”

“Can’t help it,” she shrugged. “I just have to hope for the best.”

When she returned a week and a half later, Cullen met her eagerly, expecting her to greet him with her usual smile. Instead, her face was grim, eyes dark hollows above her cheeks, as if she hadn’t been sleeping. He wrapped her in a warm embrace, then tilted her chin up with his fingers.

“What’s happened?”

She shook her head as she passed the reigns of her horse over to be put away, then looped her arm around Cullen’s waist.

“I don’t like making these decisions,” she frowned. “At the temple, there was an old Magister.” She swallowed hard, “Cullen, he’d been imprisoned, chained behind a magical barrier and forced to work for Calpernia and Corypheus. It was-“ she stopped, burying her face in his chest for a moment. “He was in so much pain. He begged me to kill him, to end it. To set him free from what he knew was and would continue to be a miserable existence. And I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew we needed as much information as he could give us.”

He held her tightly against him, letting her sob into his chest. While she cried, he stroked her hair, cooing soft words of comfort, but his heart ached for her.

“He was an old man, Cullen. In pain. He wanted me to give him the mercy of death, and I couldn’t! Because of Corypheus. He has to live, to hurt, because of a stupid man who wanted to be more than an ordinary mortal. I swear, Cullen, Corypheus will regret every misery he’s been the cause of. If it were in my power, he’d spend the rest of eternity suffering through every hurt he’s caused another, a thousand times over! He would . . . he’d . . . .”

She tapered off into tears again, letting Cullen hold her. After a time, he reached to tilt her face up again, to look into her eyes.

“Aelyth, I am so very proud to be with you.” She gave him a confused look as he stroked her cheek. “You care so very deeply for others. You comfort, you heal, you feel others’ pain and treat it as if it were your own. I know that, if you could, you would right every wrong that’s ever been done in this world.”

“You make me sound as if I’m some sort of saint, worthy as Andraste herself.”

“You are.”

She shook her head. “No. No, I’m terribly selfish, Cullen. Everything that I do, I do just so I can return to you, to rest in your arms. My sole motivation is to get this over with as quickly as I possibly can, so that we can move on, and live a quiet life together, away from all troubles.”

“Then I’m equally selfish.” He smiled at her, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “Because I want the same thing. Oh, Maker, Aelyth. Are we just fools?”

“Probably,” she laughed. “But you’re my fool, and I’m yours. Maker forgive us.”

“Indeed.”

They walked aimlessly, hand in hand, enjoying the feeling of being together again. Even the sky seemed to be content, a bright sun and perfect shade of blue. It was easy, for a few moments, to pretend that things were at least somewhat normal. Then reality barged in again.

“Madam Inquisitor? You’re needed in the war room. Both of you.”

Cullen turned towards Aelyth, cupping the side of her face.

“Duty calls, I suppose.”

“Always. But I suppose we have no choice. Not if we want the future we’ve talked about.”

Hours later, Cullen stalked into the garden area, with Aelyth on his heels. But no matter how she called to him, he wouldn’t stop, and he wouldn’t slow. His anger was fearsome, she knew that, though she’d only heard stories until now. Now, he was blind with fury, and all of it was focused on Morrigan. 

Aelyth considered them lucky, when they found her, that her son wasn’t there to witness the vitriol directed at his mother.

“You take her through some portal, into an unknown land, with no one guarding her?”

“T’was a safe place. I have been there many times before.” Morrigan answered coolly. “I would not take the Inquisitor into danger.”

“I cannot know that, and neither can she! You are an unknown in the Inquisition, with powers we hardly understand, and that makes you dangerous, as far as I’m concerned.”

Aelyth pushed past him, having finally caught up. She placed herself between the two, facing Cullen.

“I’m not helpless, Cullen! And she took me nowhere, she forced me to do nothing. I went of my own accord!”

“Maker’s glory, Aelyth, why would you follow her? She’s not to be trusted!”

“Why, Cullen? Because she’s a mage? Because she’s knowledgeable, powerful? That’s exactly why we need her! Cullen, she knows what Corypheus is after, and where we need to go.”

“Or she leads us into a trap!”

“ENOUGH!” Aelyth screamed. “Cullen, return to your duties. That is an order from your Inquisitor!”

For a moment, Cullen stood, his jaw clenched in anger. Then he spun on his heel and stomped away. Aelyth watched him, feeling both angry and hurt, regretting that she’d had to send him away, but she knew it wouldn’t have ended pretty, if he’d stayed. Finally, she turned towards Morrigan, who was standing with her arms crossed, a look of mild amusement on her face.

“Lady Morrigan, I apologize for the interruption, and the Commander’s inexcusably rude behavior.”

“T’is nothing. It is clear he cares for you deeply.”

“Yes. I just wish he would trust me to take care of myself.”

“I believe he does. It is himself he does not trust.”

“What do you mean?”

Morrigan sighed, walking towards a nearby bench as Aelyth followed.

“He loves you, and so he worries. That you will be hurt, that you will die, that he would not see you again.” She sat on the bench, Aelyth beside her. “It is his love for you that has made him a better person, and allowed him to forgive himself for the mistakes in his past. He fears that, without you, all of that will be lost. He does not trust himself to remain who he is without you beside him.”

“He is a good man. I can’t imagine him falling back to who he was.”

“But you did not know him in his darkest hour, when all the light had left his world. I have heard of his deeds, and, regrettably, I know the desperation he faced.” She stood, turning to bow her head towards Aelyth. “But, I forgive him his poor manners, Lady Inquisitor. For his sake, and for yours.”

She walked away, leaving Aelyth alone in the garden. She loved it there, it brought her peace and reminded her of home in the outdoors. Every plant there she’d started herself, with her bare hands. She’d always had a talent for making things grow.

With a sigh, she thought of Cullen. She didn’t doubt any of what Morrigan had said, in fact, the more she thought on it, the more she was certain she was right. Though his actions were wrong, they’d come from a place of genuine concern. Cullen was so strong physically, she sometimes forgot that emotionally, he was still somewhat fragile. After some deep thought, she got up and went to find him.

It wasn’t until late in the evening that she saw him again, after she’d given up searching to return to her bedroom. He was there, sitting on the bed, his eyes rimmed crimson. When he caught sight of her, he leapt up.

“Aelyth!” 

He threw his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest. He’d already removed his armor, so it was a warm, comforting embrace. After a time, he leaned back, tucking her short lock of hair behind her ear.

“Maker, Aelyth, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at Morrigan. I should trust you.”

She placed her hands over his.

“It’s alright, Cullen. I know you worry about me. I just wish you wouldn’t take it out on others. I can make my own choices, and I’m capable of bearing their consequences, too.” She met his gaze. “Even if it means you’re mad at me, and you yell. I’m not perfect. I’d rather you yell at me than just not care if I make a mess of things.”

He chuckled, tracing the side of her face before slipping his finger beneath her chin.

“I’d rather not yell at you, if that’s alright.”

She smiled at him, and he leaned to place a soft kiss on her lips.

“I love you, Aelyth.”

“I love you, too.”

They finished undressing, and Aelyth crawled happily into Cullen’s arms.

“Cullen?”

He hummed in response.

“Promise you’ll never let me go?”

He shifted beneath the covers, turning to bring her body flush against his.

“By the breath of Andraste, Aelyth, you mean everything to me. Why would I ever let you go?”


	20. Chapter 20

“I wish we could have sent soldiers with Leliana’s spies,” Cullen sighed. “I worry we’ll lose more than is necessary.”

“I know, but we have to slow Corypheus down somehow. Morrigan says the Arbor Wilds are cruel to visitors, especially those with less than pure intentions, but we can’t trust that he won’t have a way around that, especially with the mages on his side.” Aelyth crawled into bed beside him. “Besides, Celene and Briala are both sending their finest to meet them. It will be enough.”

He stroked the side of her cheek gently. “I wish I had your faith. I can’t seem to stop worrying in all of this. Especially for you.”

Moving to lay against his chest, she wrapped her arm around his waist. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then to her lips as she fit her body tight against him.

“You do, Cullen. You just don’t know it. If you didn’t, you’d never have made me Inquisitor. It will all work out. I told you, when I was in the fade, I knew it would. The demons tried to convince me otherwise, to shake my faith- in you, in the Maker, in myself. But the more they tried, the more certain I became.”

She sighed, squeezing him in a half hug.

“I wasn’t raised with the Maker, you know. I had some vague memories from before, of whispered prayers and hymns, but that was all. I knew of the Old Gods, their stories, and was raised to believe that. As I grew older, I began to look into human customs and religions, and found the Maker. It was . . . I don’t know exactly how to explain it . . . .”

“What, Aelyth?”

She looked up into his eyes, and he saw hers burning with a fierce determination, the mist of the past clouding over it.

“I felt as if I had been lead there. That it was purposeful that I was who I was, a human raised to know the Old Gods, to understand them, and then to find the religion of my past. And it felt like a betrayal to neither, like it all, somehow, fit together. I didn’t have to choose between the two, because, in the end, it all came together. And then, after what happened at the conclave, being dragged into this, the Inquisition . . . how could I see it as anything but planned? If the Maker could plan such a thing, I trust he will see me through. Especially since he’s provided me with the man who can give me the future I’ve always dreamed of.”

She smiled up at him, and he felt his heart swell, aching with love for her. She had a way of saying the perfect thing to ease his worries, and each time he felt he could fall no further in love with her, she showed him he was wrong. He held her close that night, praising the Maker for His perfect work in her, and thanking Him for bringing her into his life.

The trip to the Wilds was long and arduous, full of nervous energy. A cloud of worry hung over the party, despite their faith, despite the knowledge that their cause was righteous. Many worried even more once they’d reached the Arbor Wilds. Tales had made their way through the camp, most untrue, about the protections the Elves had put around their sacred site, and feared retribution for trespassing. At long last, Aelyth moved to put a stop to them, and to bolster the courage of her men.

“I know you have all heard tales of the ghosts of the Arbor Wilds, the protections that the ancient Elves put upon this place. It is true that they wished no trespassers, no one to defile this space.”

She paused, a ripple of tension running through the crowd, and she knew she had their attention. Cullen stood by her side, looking up at her with pride, and he knew that her words would carry them through. It was, after all, a large part of why she’d been made the Inquisitor. She lead well, and they would follow her into the Void, if she asked. Himself included.

“But we are not here to defile. We are here to protect this sacred space, to defend it from theft and desecration by those who trespass in selfishness. I know these Wilds, I have heard their stories from my youth, and I tell you now, I know that I am welcome here. And if you are with me, if you intend to stand by my side and defend this place, then you are welcome, too!”

A cheer sounded, echoing triumphantly through the woods as Aelyth stepped down into Cullen’s arms. His broad smile filled her with happiness, momentarily sweeping her the tension in her heart away. He belonged to her, just as she belonged to him. Her heart, her Commander, her beautiful, beautiful Cullen.

As she entered their tent for bed that night, she found Cullen already laid down, his hands behind his head. By the look of it, he was drifting in and out of sleep, exhausted from the stress, the planning, and the traveling. Unfortunately for him- or perhaps fortunately- she had mischief on her mind. 

She changed quickly and quietly, slipping on her long tunic, then moved to where Cullen lay sleeping. Very, very slowly, she pulled the covers down and unlaced the front of his pants, giving her access to her prize. With a smile, she leaned down and trailed her tongue along his length. In his sleep, Cullen moaned softly, and she took him into her mouth. Her tongue swirled patterns along the length of his shaft as she sucked, until he was fully hard, and beginning to groan.

Suddenly she felt his hands on her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he gasped for breath.

“Sweet Andraste, Aelyth, whatever you’re doing, please don’t stop.”

Her lips curled into a smile around him and she sucked harder, faster for just a moment before releasing him.

“Trust me, I don’t intend to.”

Then she took him back into her mouth, working her tongue against him until he groaned loudly, then sat up on his elbows abruptly, pulling her away.

“Aelyth- they’ll hear us!” He hissed.

She kissed her way down his shaft, adding in soft kitten licks that had him shuddering and gasping in pleasure. When she was done, she sat across his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Then let them hear. They know we’re together, and we’re both adults, Cullen.” She kissed him deeply, then started peppering his neck and throat with hot, craving kisses. “I’ll stop if you want, really. But,” she groaned, half laughing as she slid her wetness along him, making him throw his head back in pleasure, “do you really want me to? It’s the night before battle. I worry for your safety, as you worry for mine.” She was grinding against him now, both of them beginning to pant with desire. “I want you. I want you to take me, as loud, as long, as hard as you wish. If this might be our last night together, I want to make it a night for the ages.”

He pressed his head against her shoulder, his hands on her waist beneath her tunic, rubbing circles against her hips. He knew she was right. As much faith as they both had, as much hope, it would be utterly foolish to pretend it wasn’t a possibility that one or both of them would die tomorrow. 

Suddenly it seemed ridiculous to worry about noise.

He had her on her back in no time, thrusting into her hard and fast. She’d raised a primal need within him, an ache he could only satisfy in the most brutal way. Judging by the way she clung to him, her hips rising to meet his as she bit his shoulder, she didn’t mind at all. In fact, if her moans were anything to go by, she was enjoying it immensely.

“Cullen,” she gasped, nails digging in his back as he pounded into her again and again, “I never knew you could be such an absolute beast. It’s . . ,” she moaned as he thrust deep and hard inside of her, “Maker, it’s fantastic.”

He smiled against her neck before sinking his teeth in, drawing a luscious cry. The heat of their breath filled the tent, along with the steady rhythm of flesh meeting flesh, moans upon moans.

“I’d give myself to no other this way, trust no other to see the most vulgar side of me. You make it beautiful, this beast within me. You feed it’s desirous cravings and satisfy its needs.”

Another time, Cullen would have spent all night with her that way, sating his hunger with her body, fulfilling her every desire. There was an immense freedom in loving her this way, setting himself loose and finding she loved even that side of him, and he vowed to make the time for that sort of thing regularly, provided they made it out. For now, though, he allowed himself the joy of spilling deep inside of her, to the sound of her satisfied cry, and then watching her face as he brought her the same release.

The following morning, they were both still blissfully relaxed, stealing kisses as they dressed for battle. Cullen was to take the soldiers to meet and draw out the majority of Corypheus’ troops, allowing Aelyth, Bull, Vivienne, Blackwall, and Morrigan to travel more easily, fighting less resistance. It was a solid plan, but, unfortunately meant they were unlikely to see each other until everything was over.

When they emerged, they kissed one final time before separating, steeling themselves for whatever came. Aelyth met everyone else on the edge of camp. As they readied themselves to go, Bull pulled her to the side, a smirk already on his face.

“Andraste’s breath, Bull, what is this about?”

“Just letting you know, you and Cullen put on quiet a show last night.” She raised an eyebrow at him and he returned the gesture. “Hey, I just thought you might want to know. Half the men must’ve had their hands in their pants, thanks to the noise from you two.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you were busy mending clothing.”

“Oh hell no. I was going right along with the rest of them. Surprised you didn’t hear me, actually- I’m not known for being quiet.”

“Is that all you called me over for?”

“No. I called you over to tell you I didn’t think Cullen had it in him to get rough like that, and that you should tell him to talk to me if he wants any tips. I know some great tricks with rope.”

“Thanks, Bull, but I doubt Cullen wants to know that half the camp or more heard him.” She gave him a little wink, then continued. “But you can teach me a few of those tricks, once we get out of this.”

It seemed like the fighting took an eternity. Once, on her way in, Cullen managed to get a few minutes with Aelyth, enough for words of luck and a kiss, and then she was gone again. And he didn’t see her until they returned to Skyhold. All that time, he knew nothing. There had been no body found, no signs of a struggle but a broken Eluvian, like the one Morrigan had brought to Skyhold with her. Supposedly, that was what Corypheus had been after. But had it been broken before they came, or did they break it to keep it from him? It seemed unlikely that Morrigan would allow that, but perhaps there had been no other choice. The uncertainty gnawed at him the entire trip home. He hoped, he prayed. Time and time again he relived the last night they’d spent together, touching the marks she’d left on him, and did his best to have faith.

He was astonished to find her waiting for him when they arrived. She must have gotten word that they were approaching, because she’d dressed beautifully, in a gown made of layers of sheer grey fabric. It wrapped at her waist, almost like a robe, and the fabric seemed to almost float around her. It made her look even more ethereal than usual, particularly when coupled with the fuzz of her curls, catching the light behind her like a halo.

The second he saw her, he leapt from his horse and ran to her, lifting her in his arms. Above her smile, tears were streaming down her face, and he kissed them away as quickly as he could.

“I worried I’d lost you. I hoped-“

“We came through the Eluvian, before it broke. If I could have-“

He cut her off with a kiss. “It doesn’t matter now.”

As she helped him undress and bathe, she explained what happened at the temple, from her following the rituals at the temple, to getting Calpernia to realize she’d been tricked, to Morrigan drinking from The Well of Sorrows- which had been Corypheus goal all along. He told her how the battle had gone, and how he’d worried for her, missing her, and thought often of their last time together. She smiled, fingers tracing over the fading purple blooms on his neck and shoulders.

“They haven’t even gone yet, not completely.”

“Yes, well, now you’re here, so it doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll have to leave again soon. Morrigan says the well has told her there is a way to defeat Corypheus, but we must go to the Altar of Mythal. She . . . well, she says she must summon her.”

“Mythal? But what is she?”

“I don’t know. But she says it’s essential to defeating Corypheus.”

Cullen settled back against the pillows, sighing.

“Don’t worry Cullen. This will be a much shorter trip.”

She was true to her word, back in only a few days. As she told him of what happened at the altar, they walked towards the war room to brief the others.

“So Mythal is Morrigan’s mother? And she must obey her will? Maker’s glory, I’m glad it’s not you.”

“Me too. But, Cullen, the bitter irony! Running away from her mother, finding peace, her own life, and now she’s chained to her will. It’s sad, in a way.”

“Quite. But she has a way to defeat Corypheus? That much was accomplished?”

“Yes. She hasn’t explained it yet, but I suspect she’s waiting until just the right time. She does enjoy a bit of drama.”

As they stepped into the war room together, he took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly. Whenever he worried, she was his source of strength, and he hoped he was the same for her. He could scarcely remember what his life had been before she came into it, only that it seemed dull and colorless compared to the life he had now. That he loved her was simply another fact, like the sky being blue, and, he knew, it was just as certain to remain that way.


	21. Chapter 21

She’d been looking for Cullen all morning with no success. He wasn’t in his office, nor on the training grounds, and no one had seen him, either. It wasn’t until she headed towards the garden that she heard it- his soft voice murmuring from nearby. When she followed it, she found him in the Chantry, kneeled in prayer. For a few moments, she stood back, watching him. Then an urge overtook her, and she moved to kneel beside him, taking his hand in hers and continuing the prayer along with him. It was comforting, natural, to be there with him, sharing his prayer, almost as intimate as their time in bed.

When the prayer was finished, he helped her to stand, and looked deeply into her eyes. The intensity of the emotion contained in his eyes almost terrified her. He seemed . . . lost, somehow, adrift in his feelings. She smoothed her hand over his cheek.

“A prayer for you?”

“For those we have lost.” He paused, his throat thick with sorrow. “And for those I am afraid to lose. Aelyth, Corypheus- he will strike back soon, I know. I’m certain of it. And, when that time comes, you’ll be thrown into his path again.”

He pulled her against his chest in a tight hug, and when he spoke again, his voice was heavy with emotion.

“Andraste preserve me,” he sighed, stroking the back of her head, “I must send you to him.”

“I’ll come back, Cullen. No matter what, whatever it takes.” She took his face in her hands, pulling him down into a kiss before continuing. “I will return to you. Nothing will stop me.”

One corner of his mouth lifted softly. “With your determination, Corypheus should worry.”

“Yes, well . . . oh, Maker! I nearly forgot. I have a gift for you.”

She pulled out a heavy bundle, wrapped in linen. He unfolded the edge, then gasped.

“Sweet Maker! Aelyth, you didn’t . . . ?”

He reached up as she nodded, feeling across her back and up her neck. How had he not noticed? Quickly, he untangled the braids on each side of her head, revealing hair that barely reached past her chin. She drew in a shuddering breath.

“Consider it a promise. I’ll be with you longer than it takes my hair to grow back.”

“How long did it take the fist time?”

“All of my life.”

His heart leapt in his chest as he swept her into his arms. Maker, this love, this woman, she was all he needed for the rest of his life. When he put her down again, he immediately took her face in his hands, pressing is forehead to hers.

“If that was your promise, then this is mine.”

He dropped to one knee, taking her hands in his and pressing a soft kiss to them before looking up at her.

“Aelyth, you are, without a doubt, the strangest thing that has ever happened to me. You came into my life and turned it upside down, you changed everything I thought I knew about myself . . . and I’ve never been happier. I want to walk the rest of my days by your side, my hand in your hand. I want our cottage by the lake, our feral children . . . I want you. Forever.”

He pressed his lips to her hands again before looking at her once more.

“Marry me.”

Her smile was the brightest, most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, but even it couldn’t compare to the beauty of the words that tumbled from her lips to his ears.

“Oh, Cullen, of course!”

And then she was in his arms, kissing him everywhere, being kissed the same. The two of them laughed and cried together, happier than they ever thought they could possibly be. Cullen looked at her, breathless and dizzy with joy. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, noting to himself that she looked as beautiful with short hair as she has with long.

“I wonder if Mother Giselle is free right now?”

Her eyes widened. “Yes, Cullen, Maker yes, lets get married at once!”

She practically dragged him from the Chantry, heading towards the Great Hall. Every now and then, he would pull her to a stop, just to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. They were as giddy as children, and it didn’t go unnoticed when the entered the Hall.

“Well, well, Curly. What’s with all the laughter and cuddling?”

Aelyth and Cullen shared a smile, then turned to Varric again. A blush rose across Cullen’s cheeks as he answered.

“She’s agreed to marry me. Now.”

Varric’s eyes widened. “You mean you just proposed to her, and you’re about to get married RIGHT NOW? Andraste, are you crazy?”

“They certainly must be.” Vivienne called from the balcony. “Don’t move an inch, darling, I’ll be right down.”

Moments later, she swept out of the staircase, immediately taking Aelyth’s face in her hands.

“My darling, you are the Inquisitor. It will not do for your marriage to be anything less than the greatest spectacle Thedas has ever seen. We’ll require music, food, plenty of wine . . . and your dress. It simply must be magnificent.”

“Vivienne, that sort of affair would take months,” Aelyth pleaded, pulling Vivienne’s hands down. “We are at war. After the Arbor Wilds, Corypheus is likely to strike at any moment.”

“We don’t want to wait. Neither of us need a large affair, only our friends.”

“Cullen, darling, sometimes it is not about your needs, but appearances.”

“Alright, Vivienne,” Aelyth tried. “How about this? Cullen and I will marry immediately, in a very small, private ceremony, with just the inner circle. Later, when we’ve defeated Corypheus, you can throw me the largest wedding ever seen. We’ll make the nobles jealous.”

Rolling her eyes, Vivienne replied, “Very well. But at least wear something nice? And that goes for you as well, Commander.”

Varric cleared his throat. “I guess I can go get everybody together. Andraste, nobody’s gonna believe this.” He walked away, shaking his head.

“Off you go Commander. I shall send Dorian to assist you momentarily,” said Vivienne before turning to Aelyth. “I suppose I will have to attend to you in this matter, lest you look less than the exquisite creature you are.” She smiled at her fondly, then gave her a gentle hug, whispering in her ear. “And congratulations, darling. I know the two of you will be very happy together.”

They were nearly at the door to Aelyth’s quarters when Josephine stepped out of her office. She took one look at Vivienne’s mysterious smile and Aelyth’s grin and knew immediately that something was amiss.

“And just where are the two of you headed?”

Vivienne gave her a dismissive hand gesture. “Just off to the Inquisitor’s quarters, darling. I must help her dress for the wedding.”

Josephine frowned for a moment. “Wedding? I was not aware of any . . . .” Then, realization dawned, and a broad smile stretched across her face. “You mean the Inquisitor and the Commander are-?”

Aelyth nodded. “And as soon as we can ready ourselves. We’ll meet in the Chantry once we’ve dressed.”

With a gasp, Josephine clasped her hands together. “Oh, how wonderful! You simply must let me assist you! I’ll go get Leliana.”

She scurried off before Vivienne could object. Moments later, Aelyth was in her room, dressed only in her underthings, while Vivienne, Leliana, and Josephine rooted through her clothing. 

“Darling,” Vivienne called from deep inside the closet, “I can’t seem to find anything suitable for your marriage. The only formal clothing you seem to have are the gown you wore to the Winter Palace, and, if I squint, perhaps the one you wore for Cullen’s return. You simply can’t be seen in items you’ve already worn.”

“By the breath of Andraste, Vivienne,” Aelyth cried as she flopped backwards onto the bed, “it’s not like everyone will see me, it’s just the same inner circle, and Mother Giselle.”

“Yes, but you must impress your future husband. When he lays eyes on you for the first time, he must feel swept away, that he’s the luckiest man in Thedas to be by your side.”

Aelyth smiled a crooked smile. “Cullen thinks that anyway.”

Josephine stuck her head out of the closet for a moment, carrying both gowns.

“Perhaps we can use pieces from both to create something new?”

“Not a bad idea, Josephine. Certainly resourceful.”

Both of them, along with Leliana, separated the pieces, laying them this way and that, until at last they found a configuration they all agreed on. The grey underskirt of the wrap dress was to go on first. After that, they placed the outer layer of the dress from the Winter Palace, it’s green muted somewhat by the grey underneath, then turned to a soft sage green by adding the the outer layer of the wrap dress. When she was fully dressed, Aelyth turned before their judging eyes.

“It’s fantastic!” Josephine exclaimed.

“Not bad, certainly nice.” Vivienne tapped her chin thoughtfully. “But it seems that-“

“Something is missing,” finished Leliana. “I believe I have just the thing. One moment.”

When she returned, she was carrying a waist corset made of shiny silver fabric, and a heavily embroidered silver robe. 

“From my days in the Game.”

Carefully, and far more tenderly than Aelyth would have thought, Leliana helped her dress, tying the corset for her. When she was done, she stepped back, and the three women smiled at her. Josephine was just opening he mouth when there was a great crash from downstairs, and Sera’s voice rang against the walls.

“Wazzat? You’re gonna marry Commander broody, and I’ve got to find out from Varric? You-“ she stopped abruptly, nearly causing a growling Cassandra to crash into her. “Woof. You’re looking a sight, there. Cully-wully’s gonna have a FIT.”

Cassandra’s mouth curved into a wistful smile. “For once, I agree with Sera.” A romantic sigh fell from her. “Cullen’s going to be most impressed. I am glad the two of you found each other. May the Maker bless your marriage with happiness and long lives.”

“Yeah, and lots of kids, the way they go at it.”

“You should have heard them in the Arbor Wilds. I could hardly sleep for the racket,” mumbled Josephine.

Aelyth moved to look at them all in turn, and tears sprang to her eyes. She’d begun, ages ago it seemed, as a prisoner, accused of killing the Divine. She’d been lonely, lost and uncertain of her place in the world. Now, the same women who had once held her prisoner were standing here with her, wishing her well, and she was about to marry a man who she felt carried her very soul in his chest. One by one, she reached for them, hugging them as tears fell.

“I just want you all to know that, when all of this started, I intended to be out and away from it as quickly as possible. I felt there was no place for me here, in the Inquisition, that I didn’t belong in your world. But as we’ve gotten to know each other, we’ve become friends. And now, now . . ,” she had to pause to collect herself. “Now I can’t think of a place that I would feel more at home. You made me your leader, but you treated me as an equal, and I can’t possibly express the gratitude I have for each of you.”

Not one of the women had dry eyes by the end of her speech. They surrounded her in and enormous hug, weeping and thanking each other. For all of their differences, they loved one another, and would always have warm, happy thought of these days, they knew. Despite the terror, the stress,and the fighting, each of them had found greater security and comfort among this group than they had ever known before.

Finally, Leliana stepped back.

“We must leave, Inquisitor. Your groom is waiting.”

Cullen stood nervously in the Chantry, dressed in a green vest he’d borrowed from the man formerly known as Blackwall, with a black dress jacket Dorian had insisted on thrown over it. Though it was a bit uncomfortable, it was far better than what he’d worn at the Winter Palace. He was trying his best not to pace, somewhat unsuccessfully. Though he knew Aelyth loved him, and he knew she wanted to marry him, he couldn’t stop himself from being afraid she’d changed her mind.

“Calm down, Curly. You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

“Yeah, Cullen. The boss’ll be here, she’s crazy about you.”

Cullen turned his eyes toward them, ready to make a biting comment. Instead, he was distracted by the doors of the chantry opening. Vivienne stepped in, followed by Josephine and Leliana side by side. The two of them shared a smile, then stepped to the side, and Cullen felt his heart stop.

Aelyth stood behind them, dressed in layers of grey and green, looking more like a fantasy creature than ever. Perhaps it was the clothing, but more likely, it was because Cullen knew they were about to bind their lives together. He would belong to her, forever, and the world would know it.

She began to walk towards him, her smile bright and a lightness in her heart. Cullen bowed low, kneeling, supplicating himself to her before rising to take her hands in his. His heart was pounding in his chest, trying to escape like a caged animal, his body unable to contain the happiness within him. Carefully, he reached to tuck some hair behind her ear, and found her leaning into his gesture, resting her face in his palm. 

The entire inner circle watched as Mother Giselle stepped forward, beginning the ceremony that would join the two lovers. As a tribute to her adopted family, Aelyth spoke her vows in Dalish, while Cullen’s were of course in the common tongue. Both of them smiled broadly as they spoke, tears falling freely while they pressed their foreheads together.

When the time came to exchange rings, there was a momentary panic as Cullen realized he’d forgotten that part, but Varric simply reached into his pockets and produced two beautiful rings, cast in silverite, with vines etched around them. He pressed them into Aelyth’s hand with a hug.

“Consider it a wedding present. I kinda had a feeling Curly’d forget.”

Cullen gave him a small smile and a nod of thanks, and the ceremony continued, with the couple emotionally slipping the rings onto each other’s fingers. He looked down, taking in the sight of their hands clasped with the rings shining, and Cullen wondered if he might actually die from happiness. Not so long ago, he’d thought himself a washed up ex-Templar, the only possible future for him to die in battle. Now . . . now he had a wife, the most beautiful creature who’d ever existed, as far as he was concerned, and, with the Maker’s blessing, they would soon start a family. It seemed too wonderful to be possible.

As they sealed their vows with a kiss, he swept Aelyth into his arms, one wrapped firmly around her waist, the other grasping her head. Maker, he never wanted to let her go, only live forever in that kiss, the one that meant, at last, he was her faithful husband. Her hands held his face tightly as he felt her mouth twist, the wetness of tears across her cheeks, tears of joy, for him.

When the kiss broke, she gasped against his face, scarcely able to believe it was all real. The feel of his hands, his body, the one she’d laid against so many times- and yet it was.

“I love you Cullen. With all of my soul.”

He smiled, his hands on her waist.

“And I you. My darling wife.”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly as the Inner Circle gathered around them, celebrating. 

Unfortunately, the joy wasn’t to last. A great rumbling sounded beneath their feet, and the sharp crackling of raw magic. Aelyth’s hand, the one with the anchor, began to glow a sickly green. She balled it into a tight fist, frowning as she rested her head against Cullen’s chest.

“Corypheus.”

The party burst through the doors of the chantry, stepping into the garden to see the great breach, the one Aelyth had already closed, glowing wide in the sky once more.

“If I don’t close it, it will swallow the world.”

Cullen sighed. “We have no forces to send with you. Most are still returning from the Arbor Wilds.”

“Yes, and he knows that. But I have to go. If I don’t, we have no hope for the future we want.”

He nodded, then followed her to help her dress for battle. When she was dressed and ready to leave, Cullen pulled her against his chest.

“Return to me, Aelyth. Without you I have no reason to live.”

She pulled his face towards hers.

“You do, but I will return, Cullen. I WILL return.” She kissed him long and deep. “For our children.”

And then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re almost at the end here, and I’m going to be so sad to let this story go. I’ve loved it so much! Maybe, in the future, I’ll write some sorts to expand on it, but for now . . . two chapters to go!


	22. The Fight of Our Lives

The second the party set foot in the ruins, a booming voice rang out, making them cover their ears.

“Where is your Maker now? Will you call upon him, ask him to strike me into oblivion?” The voice paused. “You cannot, for he does not exist.”

There was a dry, crackling laugh, like the sound of shattering glass, that echoed through the valley. Behind her, Aelyth heard Cassandra’s shifting steps, and the silver ringing of her sword. She readied her own bow, and to each side of her Bull and Dorian were steeling themselves for the coming fight.

“Bow before me, bow before your new god, and you may yet survive.”

As they glanced at each other, they knew they were of one mind, with a single thought burning within.

Corypheus must die.

His voice echoed again, speaking lies of their coming death as he called demons forth to fight them. When those were dispatched, Aelyth raised her voice in the darkness of the valley.

“It ends now, Corypheus!”

Suddenly, the world beneath them rumbled, the very ground rising in the air to float high above the valley. Though the movement threw them to the ground, they rallied quickly, chasing him through the ruins. 

“You are no more than a thief! An interloper! A gnat who believes they were chosen by a being who does not exist!”

Aelyth laughed a cold, humorless laugh that sent a chill through her companions.

“The Maker walks with me, Corypheus. He has raised me to this purpose, and I will not fail.”

A great roar came from beside them, and Corypheus’ dragon rose like a nightmare, but Aelyth didn’t flinch. Moments later, another dragon came, this one roaring and charging at the first, drawing it away from the others and into battle. Aelyth smiled. Morrigan had done exactly as she’d promised. The rest was up to them.

They chased Corypheus throughout the ruins, Aelyth raining arrows upon him while he hurled one insult after another. Bull and Cassandra focused on keeping the demons Corypheus raised away from her, while Dorian did his best to shield her from harm. Relentlessly she pursued him, anger boiling inside of her. How dare he do this harm to the world, to her world! How dare he believe he had a right to this precious life! He deserved only death, death, and death again, a thousand times over!

As they fought, the breach grew larger and more threatening, but he would not win, they would make sure of it. Even as the dragon rose again, blocking their way to Corypheus, they didn’t falter. The beast was dead before long, and still they sought their prey. Soon, Corypheus had nowhere left to run.

“No! Not like this!” Corypheus cried. “I have walked the halls of the Golden City, I have crossed the ages!”

He held the orb with which he controlled the breach, trying to summon more demons, but it was no use. Aelyth lifted her marked hand in the air and called to it with all of her strength. Though he tried to resist, Corypheus could not keep it in his grasp. It flew into her hand as Corypheus fell to his knees. As she looked down at him she raised the orb high. She thought of her friends, both those at her side and the ones left behind. She thought of all the men and women lost because of the monster before her, and of all those who had survived. And she thought of Cullen, her dear Cullen, and of the family they hoped to have.

She rested her free hand on her stomach and closed her eyes as, for the first time since this had all started, she let herself feel every ounce of rage, every drop of sadness. She let that flow from deep within her, channeling it into the mark, until the great breach was closed, and the orb dropped from her hands. Then she opened her eyes again, turning them onto Corypheus. With a chilling smile, she approached him, marked hand outstretched.

“You wanted into the fade?” 

She spoke mockingly, and the mark flared green. Slowly at first, then more rapidly, Corypheus began to collapse in on himself. His roars diminished as the rest of him did, until, finally, he was gone. Without him, however, there was nothing keeping the slab of earth aloft. As it crumbled beneath them, they ran, as hard and as fast as they could. When there was no more surface, they leapt.

She didn’t remember hitting the ground, though she could tell by the way her body ached that she had. A quick series of gentle movements told her arms and legs worked, and there was no blood on her hand as she touched her head, merely a slight headache. Probably plenty of bruises. As she sat up, she felt a sharp pain in her midsection, and added a few likely broken ribs to her mental list of injuries. 

Once she managed to stand, she took stock of her companions’ injuries one by one. Scrapes, bruises, a few ribs broken, a deep forehead gash. Nothing serious. All in all, what she considered an excellent outcome after fighting an ancient magister who hoped to transform himself into a god. As she smiled at them, her companions gathered around her.

“We live,” she said aloud, and Cassandra answered.

“Yes, thank the Maker.”

“And it seems the breach is finally closed,” Morrigan added.

“It seems so,” sighed Aelyth. “And now . . . now, we return to Skyhold. I have unfinished business.”

Cullen was beside himself when she returned, breaking into a full run to meet her where she stood. He pulled her into a fierce hug, intending to lift her, but she yelped in pain.

“I’m sorry, Cullen. I think I may have a couple of broken ribs.”

“By the breath of Andraste, Aelyth. You’ve returned to me. I don’t care if you’ve broken every bone in your body.”

“Well,” she sighed, smiling up at him, “luckily it’s not that dire. But, if I might finally be allowed a break from the fighting, I would very much like to have my husband take care of me as I heal.”

Cullen’s smile could have lit a room. As carefully as he could, he swept her into his arms, letting her wrap hers around his shoulders.

“Anything you ask for, my darling, is yours.”

“Just you, Cullen. You’re all I need.”

Leliana stepped towards them, a smile stretched across her face.

“We do have a moment to celebrate, but I fear it won’t last long. Every noble in Thedas will be clamoring to meet you. They want to be seen with the one who defeated Corypheus, that some of your glory may rub off on them.”

With a content sigh, Aelyth spoke over Cullen’s shoulder.

“The nobles can hang for all I care.”

And with that, Cullen carried her to their room. As soon as he’d seen her returning, he’d asked for the bath to be filled, and so it sat before them, steam rising in the air. Once he’d set her on her feet, he kneeled before her, his hands resting on her hips.

“Your bath, my lady.”

She smirked down at him, and began loosening her leathers as he worked on the laces of her leggings. Once she was down to her tunic, he stood, lifting it carefully over her head. His hands roamed her body tenderly as he pressed his face into her neck, inhaling her scent. It didn’t matter if she was filthy, covered now the lingering scent of sweat and blood. Beneath it all, it was still her, that sweet scent he loved.

“I do wish you weren’t hurt. We’ve yet to have a proper wedding night.”

“I know Cullen, and I’m sorry,” she sighed, leaning back to look at him. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you once I’ve healed.”

“It’s alright. I know you must be tired.” He gestured towards the steaming bath. “Here, let me help you.”

He helped her to lower herself into the water, letting her dip her hair beneath the surface. When she rose, he began to lather her carefully, starting with her hair and working his way down. Before long, she’d relaxed completely in his hands. Though she could tell he desired her by the way he lingered on certain areas, he made no attempt to start anything, nor any further mention.

When the bath was done, he dried her gently, as if she were made of glass. His fingers ran through her shortened hair with a fond smile, and he kissed her tenderly as she leaned into his chest.

“Cullen, would it be too much for you if we slept naked tonight? I want to feel your skin against mine.”

With a soft chuckle, he replied, “I can’t promise my body won’t respond- you are a very lovely woman, after all. But if you’ll forgive me that, I think I can manage.”

She laid in bed, watching as he removed his clothing. She understood exactly what he’d meant about the body responding- hers certainly was. He looked positively divine as he revealed himself to her. The broad expanse of his shoulders, the fine dusting of hair across his chest and the way it thickened as it trailed down his abdomen and disappeared into his pants. The way the muscles of his arms flexed beautifully as he untied the laces at his waist, loosening them to push down his muscular thighs. His strong, scarred back as he turned to lay his clothes across the nearby chair.

Aelyth found herself biting her lip, thighs pressing together as he crossed the room to her, something Cullen noticed easily. The corner of his mouth drew up in a cocky smirk as he walked towards her, stretching, putting on a show for her benefit. One she definitely appreciated. As he crawled over her in bed, her pulse started racing.

“Like what you see, Inquisitor?”

She drew in a dark, shuddering breath. “I do indeed . . . Commander. But I thought you were giving me time to heal?”

“How can I when you look at me with that fire in your eyes? Those plump, soft lips between your teeth?” He leaned towards her, careful not to put any weight on her, until his lips ghosted across hers when he spoke. “Or when I see the way your thighs press against each other, hungry to feel me between them? Tell me, Aelyth- if I reached between them, trailed my finger against you- what would I feel? Would you be wet, hot and aching for me?”

Without even intending to, Aelyth had spread her legs before him, and he placed one large, rough palm on the inside of her knee. Torturously slowly, he traced upward, until the tip of his finger rested against her. He pressed gently, and with a gasp of surprise and a deep moan, his finger slipped inside.

“Maker, Aelyth. You’re so ready . . . .”

She sighed as he began to stroke against that perfect spot inside her, settling to lay next to her. He might not be able to take her body the way he wanted to, but there were plenty of other ways they could be together. 

She placed a soft hand against his cheek. “Does my handsome husband not realize what his very presence does to me? How I long for him every waking moment?”

He groaned beside her ear, pressing his hardness agains her thigh. 

“Does my gorgeous wife not understand that I feel the same?” Hot kisses poured along her neck as his fingers moved between her legs. “By Andraste, Aelyth, do you know how often I’ve been unable to stand from my desk because I couldn’t stop thinking about how perfectly I fit between your thighs, or the way you moan when I touch you like this?”

Her hand shot down to wrap around him, causing him to moan loudly, her sudden touch more than welcome. She glanced at him, lip between her teeth, and began to pump him faster, throwing her head back. When she met his gaze again, they both had the same lustful fire in their eyes, and suddenly it became a competition of who could make the other break first. His dark groans met her cries of pleasure stroke for stroke, both of them drawing closer to the finish, neither really caring who came first.

In the end, it was Aelyth who tumbled headfirst into pleasure, crying Cullen’s name as she writhed against him, and he fell after her almost immediately. His release spurted across her thighs, thick and hot, until he collapsed against her already limp body. When he regained some of his strength, he cleaned her carefully, taking great pains to make sure she was happy and comfortable. Then he took her into his arms, and they fell into a deep, contented sleep, knowing that nothing more would ever come between them.

The emerged the next morning together, with Cullen’s arm around Aelyth’s waist. Almost at once, they were accosted by a frantic Josephine. Her eyes were wide, her usually neat bun in disarray, and she held a stack of papers in her arms.

“My apologies, Inquisitor, Commander. I know you wish to enjoy this time, but we are already being contacted by parties offering congratulations and wishing to form new alliances. And, I know it is irrelevant to you, but several parties are asking whether you might be interested in marriage. I suggest we announce your engagement, at the very least, as soon as possible. Vivienne has suggested it might be appropriate to do so at the party, but-“

Aelyth perked up. “Party? What party?”

“Oh dear me, I knew I was forgetting something! I’ve been working so hard, trying to plan the celebration, to get the orders taken care of, the invitations . . . .” She wandered away, still not explaining herself.

Aelyth looked at Cullen, both of their faces full of amusement.

“I suppose our Lady Josephine must be planning a congratulatory party for you.”

“It would seem so. But I’d say it’s for us, more like. All of us. We worked together to achieve this, you know that as well as I do, Cullen.”

“Yes, well, you are the Inquisitor, after all. The face of the effort.” He let her loop her arm in his, and the two of them walked aimlessly for some time. Finally, he spoke again. “You know, Vivienne may be right. If you still intend to let her throw us a public wedding, a congratulatory party would be an excellent time to announce our betrothal.”

She smiled, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. “You just want everyone to know we’re together.”

He stopped, cupping her face in his hand. “Yes. And as soon as possible. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all.” She returned his smile. “I’m looking forward to it, myself. Though I am NOT looking forward to seeing whatever elaborate dress Vivienne picks for our wedding.”

“Yes, I’m sure. But I am looking forward to it. I love that we married before you faced Corypheus, and I love that I get to call you my wife already, even if it’s only privately. But to stand in front of so many others, some who’d give anything to be in my place, and let them watch as you make me yours?” He chuckled to himself. “I suppose I’m a bit proud to be with you.”

“Oh, just a bit.” She winked at him. “But you know, I don’t mind at all. In fact, I rather enjoy it.”


	23. To New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the end! Thank you so much for your comments and kind words, thank you for reading my ramblings. I’m sad to let this go, but very excited to start new projects, too!

“Isn’t that dress a bit tighter than it was during the fitting?”

Aelyth looked downward, frowning.

“I don’t think so.”

“I could swear it wasn’t so . . . revealing. The way the bodice hugs your curves, the plunging neckline . . . .” Cullen sighed as he trailed playful kisses along her throat. “You know I’m going to spend all night trying not to think about what you’ll look like once it’s off.”

“I think that’s a personal problem, Cullen.” She clasped her hands behind his neck, letting him pull her closer. “Or maybe you just don’t want to share me?”

“I definitely don’t want to share you.” His hand slipped beneath the slit at her thigh, moving around to cup her ass as he kissed his way down her chest. “But I do want everyone to see that we’re together. It’s just that you look so very lovely. It distracts me.”

She wedged her knee between his legs, pressing upward until the growing bulge there rested against her thigh. Unable to help himself, he pulled her closer, grinding on her leg as he moaned. As he stepped forward, moving her towards the bed, she stopped him.

“Cullen, we have a party to attend.”

His teeth grazed the skin of her throat, and he felt her grip on his arms tighten.

“I don’t care. They can wait.”

He kissed her passionately, lowering her body to the bed, but when he leaned to unfasten his pants, she rolled out from under him, leaving him on his back to stare at her and whine her name playfully. Sticking her tongue out, she grasped his hands and pulled him forward. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her waist, looking up at her. He started to slip his hand under her dress again and she batted it away, then took his face in her hands.

“We HAVE to go. But, listen- I have a surprise for you.” 

She laughed as he raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

“BUT . . . you have to attend the party with me first.”

He frowned slightly, but let her lean down to kiss him and pull him into a standing position without complaint. He sulked, but finished dressing under her watchful gaze. Just as they were about to head downstairs, he stopped her to pull her in to a hug.

“I just wanted to thank you. I know that we’ve gone through a great deal, especially you, and we’ve been distracted, and I know that you know I love you. But . . . you gave me the chance to prove myself to you, not only as your partner, but also as your Commander. You trusted me even when I wouldn’t trust myself, and you believed there was more to me than I saw. I-“ He paused to swallow hard and tuck some stray hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know if i was worth anything anymore, or if I wanted to continue my life. But . . . you gave me a reason to continue. Even without this . . ,” he kissed the finger that usually held her wedding band, “you helped me to become the man I wanted to be. Though I’m eternally grateful you also hold my heart, I would owe you my life regardless.”

She took his face in her hands and kissed him hard, trying not to let the tears he’d raised spill out.

“You were always that man. I just helped you to see it.”

He chuckled, brushing his knuckles over her cheek.

“Unfailingly modest, I see.”

They descended the staircase hand in hand, pausing at the door to the great hall. With a slightly nervous glance, Aelyth put her arm through Cullen’s, and the two walked through the door.

The whispers started immediately, eyes darting from their linked arms to their faces as Cullen escorted her to the throne. She heard Cullen draw in a shaky breath, and gave his arm a final squeeze before she moved to sit. Cullen stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. With an elegance that made Vivienne proud, Aelyth turned her head towards Josephine, giving her a single nod, and Josephine beamed at her before clearing her throat.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, distinguished guests of the Inquisition. We are here tonight to celebrate the defeat of Corypheus at the hands of our Inquisitor, Lady Aelyth, and her companions.”

Josephine then listed each of the Inner Circle one by one, giving pause to let them stand and receive a round of applause. The entire time, Cullen’s hand remained on Aelyth’s shoulder. She could tell he was incredibly nervous, doing his best not to fidget, and he was mostly successful. However, it became more difficult as Josephine drew closer to the end of the list. By the time she was done, he was almost bouncing with nervous energy.

“And last, but certainly not least,” Josephine continued, “I present to you Lady Aelyth, formerly of Clan Lavellen, our leader and Inquisitor.”

Aelyth stood, making a small bow at the audience, and at each of her companions, while applause thundered throughout the hall. When it finally died down, Cullen stepped forward, standing beside her and taking her arm again. The two smiled at each other, then at Josephine, who began to speak again.

“This is, indeed, a night for celebration . . . ,” applause rose for a moment, then silence fell again. “But for more than just the ending of the greatest threat Thedas has known.” She looked around the room at each of the Inner Circle. “As you can see, tonight Lady Aelyth is attended by our very own Commander Cullen Rutherford.”

A ripple of gasps ran through the crowd as Cullen and Aelyth beamed at each other.

“This is because on this day, the two wish to formally announce their betrothal.”

Applause, gasps, and murmurs of all kinds ran through the audience. Somewhere amid the din, they heard Sera shout something vaguely lewd, and laughter joined the sounds fighting for attention. Cullen noted at least three nobles leave in a huff, and guessed that they were hoping for a political coupling. Eventually, applause won out, with cheers soon joining in. Cullen and Aelyth stood facing each other, their hands joined, and when Cullen leaned in for a kiss, the cheering doubled. Aelyth could tell by the look on his face that he’d never been happier, and neither had she.

When they were finally allowed to sit together, a string of nobles approached them to congratulate them, a few somewhat grudgingly. All the while, all throughout the evening, Cullen stayed by her side, his hand in hers, or his arm wrapped around her. Despite Sera and Bull’s best efforts, they wouldn’t join them in drinking, and despite Varric’s, they refused a game of Wicked Grace. Cullen’s pride was still sore from the first, after all. Still, they managed to mingle and find the time for their friends amid the formalities, and it seemed even Cullen enjoyed himself.

As the night drew on, the crowd slipped away little by little, until everyone left was either distracted with their own amusements, or too drunk to be bothered by much of anything. It was then that Aelyth slipped her hand into Cullen’s, leaning to whisper in his ear.

“Shall we return to our earlier amusements?”

The heat in her voice and mischief in her gaze sent chills through him, arousal already rising. He grinned, then gave her a nod.

“Whatever you like, darling. Shall we?”

She stood, leading him to the door of their chambers, the one they’d entered the hall through hours earlier. Cullen pulled it open, politely holding it for her, then following her inside. The moment it was closed behind them, he pulled her roughly against him, grasping the back of her head and crashing his mouth against hers. She returned his kiss with equal passion, letting him pull her up the stairs, lifting her into his arms as she stumbled. When they reached the top of the stairs, both of them started shedding their clothes, throwing them carelessly to the ground. 

When she was fully naked, Cullen grasped the back of her thighs, lifting her off of her feet. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her legs at his waist as he carried her to the bed, his moans in her ear heating her blood. It was like the night in the Arbor Wilds again, lustful, wanton, and animalistic. Cullen even sounded feral, growling with desire as he threw her to the bed. She could get quite addicted to this side of him, she thought as he descended on her, tongue trailing against the hollow of her throat.

She gasped as he bit her breast, grasping handfuls of his hair. As soon as he pulled back, she rolled to her stomach, pressing her ass up against him. A few rolls of her hips and he started groaning, pushing against her to find her opening. The slightest tilt of her hips and he was inside of her, reaching around to find the spot he knew would drive her wild.

Whether it was the passion of the moment or the angle he was at in this position, the second he touched her, she felt herself falling over the edge of pleasure. Her gasps, the dark, heady moans as she clenched around him, riding out her pleasure, only spurred him onward. He wanted- he NEEDED to fill her with his seed, lay his claim upon her body. Apparently, she felt the same way, crying out from beneath him for him to satisfy the ache within her and give her all. Moments later, that’s exactly what he did, spending inside of her until he felt he had no more to give.

He laid beside her on the bed, both of them utterly shattered, yet smiling with the lazy happiness such a coupling brings. Aelyth wedged her way into Cullen’s arms, relaxing against his chest, and for a long time, neither of them spoke. Then Cullen remembered.

“I thought you mentioned having a surprise for me. Was that it?”

She grinned against his chest. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Well what is it then?”

“Maybe I should make you guess. Or maybe I won’t tell you.”

“Andraste’s holy name, Aelyth, you can’t do that to me!”

“Oh, is that right, Commander?” She shot to her knees, leaning over him. “Well now I’m certainly not going to tell you.”

“I think you will,” he exclaimed as he pulled her across him, his hands firmly on her waist. “You’ll have to.”

“Oh I do?” She giggled. “No. I have to do nothing. I refuse.”

He pouted beneath her, whining. “Please?”

She kissed him sweetly. “Try again.”

“Please darling?”

Another kiss, and she shook her head.

“Inquisitor Aelyth, to whom Thedas owes a great debt, and to whom I owe my very life, my beautiful wife, who owns my heart and soul- would you reveal to me your great secret?”

She smiled broadly, then leaned and whispered in his ear.

“I’m carrying your child.”

She leaned back, still smiling, looking down at his stunned face. 

“You’re . . . are you quite serious?” She nodded. “You’re certain?”

“Maker, Cullen. Yes, I’m certain, and yes, I’m serious.”

He gave her a crooked smile before whispering, “How long?”

“Around two months.”

His face fell as he sat up, turning suddenly serious. “MONTHS? Aelyth, you should’ve told me! Maker- to think, I let you run around fighting, facing Corypheus- and you were . . ,” he looked at her, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you would react like this. Cullen, I HAD to fight Corypheus. There was no one else, it was my responsibility. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t even have a world to raise our child in.” She took his face in her hands. “And I waited to tell you because, if the worst should happen,” she paused, sighing heavily. “If the worst were to happen, if I fell, I didn’t want you to mourn the loss of two lives. Losing me would have been hard enough for you. To know you’d lost your child as well . . . .”

He kissed her tenderly, resting his forehead against hers.

“I understand.”

They sat in silence for some time, her held across his lap, until he smiled softly.

“We have a child on the way. Our child. Aelyth-“ he looked up at her, overcome with love. “You’re carrying my child.”

“Yes, Cullen,” she smiled, happy tears falling from her eyes, “I am.”

As Aelyth slept that night, the green glow of the mark faded from her hand. By morning, it was gone completely, as if it had never been there in the first place.

And it never returned.


End file.
